


Sunrise Comes Too Soon

by snazzelle



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Discrimination, Drama & Romance, Drug Use, Eventual Smut, Gore, Interspecies Sex, Knotting, M/M, Marking, Werewolf AU, alpha!Rick, beastiality, bottom!daryl, chaoticgood!Merle, follows timeline until it doesn't, mating cycles/ruts, top!rick, werewolfhunters!Dixons, werewolves integrated into society, werewolves!Grimes, withdrawals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-02-07 19:48:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1911558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snazzelle/pseuds/snazzelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick is a good man who is now struggling with his werewolf nature in the wake of the end of the world and begins to fear what his new urges are turning him into. Daryl struggles with what he knows and what he comes to learn about the world around him. They come together and learn to accept and move on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Something to Leave Behind

**Author's Note:**

> I just really wanted to write a fic where Rick is the werewolf this time, you guys T^T
> 
> Sorry for any errors or issues in plot or whatever, I'm actually very scatter brained so I'm definitely going to miss things. 
> 
> Beta'd by redneckwoman who wonderfully found any errors so far and encouraged me through writing this fic c:

   Rick Grimes woke up with screams resonating within the thick bone of his skull in a place he didn't even recognize. Bleary, ice blue eyes stared up at a white, speckled ceiling and an IV pole stood in his peripheral vision. His insides rolled with the cramping of an empty stomach, his mouth dry and aching. There was a dull throb getting stronger on the left side of his chest, but his limbs felt like lead and stopped him reaching up to feel for the source. Rick attempted to turn on his side, groaning as his muscles screamed in protest. He grimaced, hand reaching out for something to hold so he could bring himself up to sit.

 

“Nurse! … Nurse.”

 

His breath came in haggard beats, slumped over the side of the bed as he took in the silence and the absence of life around him. The flowers before him were wilted in pale brown mixed with pinks and lavender and like a dream, he could remember when they were vibrant. Pieces were fitting together, like a movie behind his eyelids, as he relived scenes of his injury, his admittance into this hospital, and his family by his bedside. A heavy hand reached for the wound on his shoulder, only to hiss as the IV tugged where it was lodged in his vein.

 

“Shit,” Rick gasped, taking the tube by the root and tugging the needle right out of his arm, swiftly like he'd have done with a band-aid. Looking at the bloody needle made a lump form in his throat, and he stared down at the infected needle site, knowing it would be a day before the ache would clear up. He tossed it away and grabbed the nearest possible support, pulling the IV pole close and hoping he wouldn't flop down with how easily the thing rolled on the laminated tile. Getting to his feet was a challenge of keeping up his balance and strength, one he failed as he heavily fell to the floor with a silenced scream, mouth hanging open as he held his breath and voice. His disorientation worsened, and his fingers twitched like claws over the floor as he tried to regain his senses, legs throbbing with pins and needles, useless like his limbs were filled with molasses. He laid there until the pain subsided, remembering that he needed to get out and find Lori and Carl and make sure they were safe. Fingers grasp around the cold legs of the IV pole, pulling it near so he could pull his body upright with the shear force of his will.

 

Even with his heightened senses, Rick couldn't hear a thing. It was eerily quiet in the hospital building and an underlying stench of coppery blood grown stale tickled his nostrils. Undeniable fear took him as he reached the door, a trembling hand coming out to turn the knob and slowly swing it open. It was fear that kept his head down, eyes glued to the floor as he stepped forward and through the doorway, but when nothing else happened he looked up wearily, mind racing on which direction to go. All that was present was the sound of his thin, dry breathing and dragging feet over the debris of scattered papers, turned over medicine carts, and empty bullet casings. There were no beeping of medical equipment or the quiet murmurs of exchanged information between professionals and patients. He was utterly alone in a hospital that looked to be running on its last bit of energy.

 

He refused to believe that he was last living being on the planet. It was with desperate hope that Rick called out, his voice just above a whisper with how dry his throat felt. “Hello..? Anyone there?” He'd opened doors, only to see rooms were empty and there wasn't a single voice that answered him. He simply followed a single direction, hoping that the clear beautiful day outside will bring its grace back within these sanctuary walls only to feel bile rise in his throat at the sight of splattered blood on the windows once he turned a corner. He didn't dare look outside and see what carnage went on out there, and kept on dragging, head bowed.

 

He eventually reached the double doors of the East wing. The ominous message written across stopped him in his tracks, questions jumping between ear to ear as he puzzled over the words “Don't Open Dead Inside” written in large, quick strokes. It was curiosity that kept him from leaving, a cloudy mind that fed him courage as he rolled over what to do.

 

Rick stumbled forward, the IV pole catching on carts while wheels rattled loudly to signal his presence. It was unnecessarily blaring, but it didn't even process when he had the single minded devotion to reach the doors. His inhales and exhales became ragged, whistling in his lungs sharp and cool, suddenly urged on by the sound of movement on the other side. “Hello?” He asked again with that hopeless expectancy. “Please... If you're there...”

 

A collection of hissing and snarling stopped Rick in his tracks and the accompanying sounds of meaty, heavy fists on steel doors had him stumbling back. Eyes widened in shock and the IV pole slipped from his hand, tumbling to the floor with another loud clang that awoken more beasts on the other side, their snarling rising in volume until it echoed down the hallways. Doors tremble, creaking with the weight of bodies until it snapped enough to reveal a sliver of a crack. Rick shook his head, a step back and another until he tripped over the pole of his fallen support and crumpled to the floor in mass of frozen limbs. A thin, gray hand slipped between the doors, claw like fingers scratching on steel until a sharp sound pierced through the din of growling beasts.

 

Rick squeezed his eyes shut, fear so strong he was paralyzed in place. He could hear the snapping of teeth and the hunger in their deep, angered groans. The doors creaked again, the strength of the beasts even challenging the hinges of the double doors. Hearing a metallic, overpowering snap had Rick turning over onto his front, instinct quickly encompassing him as he let the transformation take hold. Bones snapped and stretched, and for moment the guttural groaning was coming from himself as his body reshaped, elongating, contorting until his ribcage expanded and his limbs felt like they were turning inside out. A sharp cry force his gritted teeth to open as pain shot from his shoulder, his body violently jerking and writhing as he transformed. Fur spurted down the length of his back and then throughout his body, and before the full transformation could be completed, Rick was kicking off the lose garments he had woken up in and ran as fast as his tired legs could take him came back the other direction.

 

The first broken window Rick found was clear enough that he jumped through without receiving injury and he reached the other side with a quiet thump of his feet on the grass. He made a mad dash across the fields and parking lot, on auto pilot to get home. Dodging the clumsy reanimated bodies was simple as long as he didn't surround himself in a herd and made sure that he had a good arms width away from any one corpse. He took familiar turns, catching landmarks that led home, panting hard by the time he reached the white, two-story house with the front door wide open.

 

_No... No..._

 

Rick hurried in, his clawed feet making clacking noises on the gravel of the pathway and then a duller sound on the wood of his porch. A high pitched whine escaped the canine beast as he whipped his head around, crawling into rooms hoping to hear the familiar voices of his family. He pushed open hastily shut doors with both paws, only to be greeted into tousled rooms and scattered photo albums. The bedrooms were no better, and he stopped into his son's, nosing at a left behind shirt on the floor. _My boy..._

 

He could smell traces of them in the air, could almost taste their frantic get away. Rick flew back down, hoping to find any hints if they had survived. His pants came out in short puppy-ish whines, jumping on furniture even, to see onto tables and counters, a hint – anything.

 

The adrenaline mixed with how hard he pushed his own body in the end became too much, his mind a mix of panic and worry, nibbling right in the back was the physical pain. He knocked over the trashcan in kitchen, and on his last strings of hope he nosed through the trash on the floor until he lay down and panted in misery, not sure which direction to turn next.

 

Tucked underneath the leg of a chair under the table, he saw a flier and he bowled over both with his big body, noisy breaths out of his nose as concentrated on the writing on the paper. He stumbled back, wondering how he'll make it, if his family were there, if the shelter was still standing. He had to know _now_ and it was with the last inch of his strength that he left his house.

 

A growl made the hairs on the back of his neck rise, wolf eyes darting over an animated dead body that took to his movement and came his way, walking as fast as it could on a mangled ankle. What was going on was too much to process at once, but the urge to kill the thing was the clearest ever and with anger fueling his limbs, he jumped on the undead with a ferocious snarl, saliva dripping off teeth snapping threateningly only to stare into yellow, unseeing eyes that reflected the mindless desire to eat.

 

Rick pressed his paws over the brittle chest, feeling bone crack under the pressure and yet the creature continued to twist and flail its arms, baring yellowed, broken, and bloodied teeth at him. Unsure what to do next, he opened his massive jaw ready to tear its face into shreds.

 

“Don't bite that!”

 

The scream of a young boy made Rick snap his mouth shut. Rick jumped off, large body rearing from the one that crawled back to its feet and outstretched its broken arms. He put as much distance between them to stare at the boy holding a baseball bat, wide brown eyes just as fearful as his own that stared right back. Immediately, Rick got between the boy and the corpse hoping to protect the young. He stood taller than the boy on his four legs, swathing the view of him with his monolithic size as he paced the creature, muzzle wrinkled to show the gleam of his sharp teeth.

 

“Son! Get away from that!” This time an older man's voice, and Rick whipped his head around, ears flattening against his skull at the loud bang of a shotgun. Before Rick could even blink, the hulking man was between him and the boy and the butt of a shotgun came crashing down on the side of his head, knocking him out before he could even retreat.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Rick woke up groggily in a dark room, tossed on the floor with his paws tied together. The wolf exhaled quickly through his nose, and recognizing his situation, started to writhe. A low growl rumbled in his chest, teeth bare again as he flopped, dull sounding, with the occasional scratch of nails on the floor.

 

“Don't move. I know what 'chu are.” It was the same voice from before, could almost imagine the dark face of the man who knocked him out. Angrily, Rick thrashed again, free tail thumping against carpet and body twisting so shoulders and hips drummed with enough force to bring the other to his feet and approach him with careful footsteps. He came around, bending down on one knee so Rick could see his brown eyes and the way his features tighten, hardened. Rick stopped moving, panting through an open mouth and licking nervously at his black nose. Once Rick relaxed, the man nodded and pulled his knife out of it's sheath on his side. “You're one of them wolf beings, I can see it in your eyes. You're a werewolf. Now its just a question of whether or not you're a registered one.”

 

Rick lowered his head, bright blue eyes still looking into the stranger's. That wasn't something easy to prove without his I.D. and with the way the man was looking at him, it seemed he'd first kill him with that knife than free him if he so much as made the wrong move. He let his muscles fall loose, the ruff on his neck even flattening so it laid sleek down the course of his back and shoulders. He didn't make a sound, and even pointedly snapped his muzzle shut.

 

The man laughed at that, but it wasn't mean-heartened. The amusement was good and it meant only to Rick that just maybe he'd survive the few minutes. The man got distracted, though, as the boy from earlier came into the room, looking in curiously at the scene. “You were protecting my son out there, weren't you?” Rick huffed, a good enough statement, and he sighed. “I didn't know what I saw, but that's what Duane told me. S'good enough for me, but one baaaad move...” He left that open ended as he reached for the tied paws, carefully snapping the tight hold. Once his movement was given back to him, Rick rolled onto his front and got his paws under him, standing on wobbly legs. “Now why don't you turn back and we'll get that bandage redressed. Some clothes on you too, sounds about good, right? Duane, go into my bedroom and find something for this man to wear.”

 

The boy ran off, which was preferable to Rick since he didn't want to have that boy see or hear the process of him changing back. Much like how it was turning from his human form to his wolf form, bones and muscles cracked and tightened, loosened and reshaped until he went from four-legged to two. An animalistic whine left the wolf's snout, the only other sound belying his pain was the canine's harsh pants. Just as he had finished transforming, a thin blanket was set over his body to give him privacy and the stranger was walking from the other end of the room, holding out a glass of water.

 

“The name's Morgan,” he said and offered the cup once Rick managed to sit upright using his uninjured side. His hand reached over his chest, holding the bandage that had loosened in place while the other struggled before closing around the glass. Rick felt the man's eyes on him watching him steadily, but he hadn't the energy, nor really the desire to tell the man he had nothing to fear.

 

“Rick Grimes. Can you tell me what's going on?” Rick looked up at him from over his cup, drinking slowly so he didn't irritate his empty stomach.

 

Morgan grinned somberly. “I think that's a conversation we can save for dinner talk.” He opened an arm as Duane came back with clothes and sat them down next to Rick.

 

“No I... I need to know now. My wife and son...” Rick choked up, pleading with his eyes for any information, even if it was just to know how bad everything was. Morgan pinned him with a sideways glance, lips firmed. He shook his head, and Rick nearly jumped up to grab him as he got up to leave.

 

“Get dressed, but leave the shirt off so we can redo that bandage. Meet us in the kitchen.”

 

As Morgan left the room, Rick tried to calm his speeding heartbeat. Eyes fixed on the table, he didn't notice that he hadn't been left alone. He heard a quiet sniffle, startling Rick who looked up. Duane remained back, a smile on his young face. “Thanks for the save back there, kid.” Rick said to break the silence, and the boy nodded. His mind much clearer, the consequences of sinking his teeth in one of those walking corpses were unimaginable. He managed a crooked grin and the boy left with a bright, “y'welcome!”

 

Rick grabbed the clothes and left the blanket on the floor, getting to his feet with the help of a low sitting table at his side. On it, he saw the materials used for his wound, all half used to cover the massive body of his wolf form. It was a waste now, as the bandage hung limply over his shoulder and chest, and he decided to remove them and leave the cotton squares with the clotted blood to keep from bleeding out. The clothes, he set in a chair so it was easy to reach as he redressed.

 

He came into the kitchen with the roll of bandages and the shirt donated to him. The table was set and Duane was already sitting at the head, moving silverware until he was satisfied with their placement. Food was already laid out hot in a saucepan and the smell of chicken broth made his empty stomach roll for a second. Rick beat the feeling of queasiness down as he was directed to the farther end of the table first to handle those wounds first.

 

“I took the liberty of removing your stitches. They were in too long.” Morgan said right away, clean hands touching the cotton squares to see underneath. Rick didn't bother to look, but he could guess the skin was mottled with old bruising and pink, new skin. “You're healin' up pretty fast.”

 

“It’s faster when I'm in the other form.” Rick said, but it wasn't a secret. It was even in the police handbook in case they needed to deal with unregistered werewolves and in history books telling the oldest battles between human and lycan-kind. Their bodies just worked differently once they got through the Change. Sadly, it wasn't something he was able to do right away the moment he got shot, too shocked to do much else other than to fully shut down.

 

Morgan didn't comment and finished up the elastic bandage. While he headed to the sink to wash his hands, Rick slipped the shirt over his shoulders, buttoning up the bottom few before giving up all together. He moved from the end seat towards the one on Duane's left and stared at his empty bowl while the boy was already spooning himself some of the soup into his own.

 

“You want some, mister?”

 

Rick smiled, reaching out. “I can do it, Duane. Thank you.”

 

The three of them ate in the quiet, aided by the candle light. Without conversation, Rick thought about what just went down not even a full day ago. He was mentally disoriented, feeling like only yesterday he was sitting in his cop car with Shane, sharing a few laughs between bites of food. For a second he wondered where his best friend was, hoping the other man survived all of this, wondering if he found Lori and Carl. He trusted that man to take care of his family while he was out.

 

Worry was next as he brought back up his wife and child. Lori was human and Carl was still a young pup, barely able to take on the change without crying and passing out. Dread was a heavy weight in his chest as he imagined their panic and fear, hoping his wife had thought quickly and clear enough to run as fast and as far as they could. He only hoped she didn't wait behind for him.

 

So deep in his thoughts, Rick hadn't noticed he stopped eating. His spoon hovered over his bowl, full with cooled broth. Morgan leaned forward over the table, looking at Rick under his brows. “You doin' alright?”

 

“I think I'd like to know what's goin' on right now. What was- what is all that?” Rick looked up and set his spoon down, pushing away his half eaten bowl. “What're those... things?”

 

“Well.” Morgan breathed out through his nose, taking his empty bowl and Rick's and setting it in the saucepan to take the sink. Duane took his own bowl, disposing of it on the kitchen counter before hurrying out the room with another pointed glance from his dad. Rick remained sitting, watching Morgan's hands as he cleaned the table and the way the flickering fire put shadows over its surface. Morgan sat across from him again, folding his hands over the table as he pinned the other with a stare. Rick could see in his eyes how the other man tried to figure out the best way to tell him.

 

“Anthin' you gotta say, just say it.”

 

“I don't know what to call them.” Morgan finally said, suddenly looking very tired. He rubbed at his face, especially on his dark, baggy eyes weighed down by the world's condition. It looked like the other carried all his troubles on his shoulders as he allowed them to sag in defeat. “One day they just started poppin' out, attackin' one and then another. Got no name for them, no known... disease. Just know you don't get bit.” Morgan paused, eyes having drifted off to the right of Rick's head, but they snapped back to meet his concerned gaze. “You get bit, you die, and you become one of them,” laughing lightly, he scratched the back of his arm, “Think that's what my son was gettin' at, tellin' you not to bite that thing. Don't know what exactly makes them infectious.”

 

Rick nodded, lips curling in over his teeth as he looked away, again grateful for the kid who probably just saved his hide. Head bobbing again, he said, “Yeah... your son's very perceptive.”

 

Morgan tilted his head, lips pulling downward thoughtfully as he got up from the table. “He's afraid. And when you wanna survive, you look at the details.” He went back to the sink, cleaning with the water they hadn't drank, the broth easily clearing from the tableware. He looked over his shoulder at Rick, saying, “You should get some sleep. Don't know 'bout you, but I'm lookin' forward to my own couple a' hours when you take second shift.”

 

Understanding how Morgan would possible keep watch as long as possible when he had a young charge made Rick chuckle, knowing he'd of done the same for his own family. Before he left the kitchen to take the mattress he had woken up next to on the floor, he caught Morgan's attention again by murmuring, “Thanks for taking me back here. Ya didn' have to, but y'did.”

 

“Well, if my wife was alive... she would never forgive me for lettin' someone die out there.”

 

Rick bowed his head and didn't press, unsure how to share his sympathy with a man who was still basically a stranger. When he was back in the dimly lit living room, he crashed into the mattress, carefully setting his injured side down last. Duane was nowhere in sight, the sounds of the hissing corpses muted within these walls, and mostly he concentrated on the other man humming an old tune to fill the silence until he fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

Rick was awoken by the sound of scratching on the front door. He got up and found that the pain on his left side was a lot more manageable now, finding himself on his feet in a few measly seconds, rather than working himself up just to keep his head up high. Rick kept himself quiet, brow furrowed as he neared he noise that disturbed him in his dreamless sleep. When he came to a stop in front of it, the sounds from the other side had ceased as well.

 

He peeked through the peephole, staring confusedly at a woman completely in disarray with her black hair sticking up at odd ends, and eyes opened wide and blood shot. Her mouth hung open, a breathy, recognizable hiss leaving her parted, full lips colored a deadly shade of greyish purple. The corpse looked right back at him in the peephole and her painted nails went back to scratching around the door handle.

 

Rick blindly reached behind, his hand wrapping around the metal baseball bat Duane had carried around when he first met him leaning against the wall. He summoned up the energy to want to open the door and get rid of the problem, but a heavy hand on his forearm as he grasped the doorknob stopped him in his tracks. Looking back, he stared into Morgan's brown eyes, saw how they had slanted with sadness.

 

Rick studied those features, how despair and guilt made the wrinkles around his eyes prominent and kept the proud man's gaze down to the floor. “Is she...?” Rick asked, voice high and whispery with disbelief. He got a single nod, and though Rick had guessed, he still found himself at a loss for words as he let the bat hang limply at his side.

 

“She comes and goes.” Morgan whispered and left Rick standing at the door, sitting on the couch across from the mattress. “See her everyday, standin' across from this house. Like a ghost, but worse.”

 

“Why do you stay?” Rick didn't understand. He wouldn't be able to live with himself waking up every morning and looking out every night to see the animated corpse of his wife mindlessly circling his home. He could see it in the way Morgan slumped how this had taxed on him and it was with as much sympathy as he could muster that he suggested, “We should leave.”

 

“Where else can we go? There's no where. We're not safe. Not out there.”

 

“We can get a few things to make us safe and then we will head out of town. We'll break into the Sheriff's Department and take what we need.”

 

Morgan narrowed his eyes. His voice came out with a bit of suspicion. “Just who are you, Grimes?” It made Rick balk, his head shaking in disbelief, but the man had every right to not trust him. His thin hand pushed through the curly locks of his hair before pointedly looking at the other man.

 

“It don't matter. What does is that we get the weapons we need to survive and we look for a better place to stay. Your boy deserves better than this.” It was a low blow, but he could see it working. The cogs were moving in Morgan's head, and that's really all Rick needed to push, “Heard about that refugee shelter in Atlanta?”

 

Morgan scoffed. “Of course I have.”

 

Rick didn't asked him why he and his family didn't go when there was nothing that held them back. He lowered his head, looking up into the other who kept his bent down, catching those eyes. “There is safety in numbers. We'll find something. Duane shouldn't be afraid to be outside for the rest of his life.” He paused, sizing the other up before laying a hand on Morgan's shoulder. “He shouldn't have to see his mom out there like that forever.”

 

Morgan pulled away abruptly, quickly ending the conversation. “It’s your turn to take watch.” Rick figured he pushed too hard, and cursing to himself quietly, he nodded.

 

Rick followed him upstairs into the room that oversaw the front yard. Along the way pictures of the family hung up in the hallway. He can see what Morgan's wife looked like before she was infected, now seeing how she was like with life in her eyes and a pretty smile on her face. He saw what she was like as a wife and a mother and found himself feeling sorry for the other man and his son. He felt like he had to say something to Morgan, give some sort of comfort, but the words were a mess even in his own head, leaving him unsure how to respond without stepping on more toes. He sat up on the window sill, sitting on the ledge so he can watch out of the arched window. Morgan left him be to go to his room, his footsteps turning to nothing as he ambled out into the hallway.

 

He couldn't guess what time it was, but the sky outside was still an inky dark blue, the stars shining brighter now that the power grid had locked and shadowed the town in darkness. The corpses outside were quiet, walking slowly in an aimless direction, groaning in hunger. Eventually he saw Morgan's wife come into view, shuffling to the other side of the road, her gait uneven and swaying side to side. He could see the shine of dried, tarlike blood on the side of her neck and the same dark blood that stained her nightdress. Rick watched her, intrigued when she stood still then turned slowly, looking back at the house like she heard a noise. Rick could almost fool himself into seeing recognition in her expressionless face.

 

* * *

 

 

Morgan had Rick sitting down counting the cracks in his fireplace for most of the morning. The man had come down quietly, his son the only bright ray of light who bounded down the stairs while the adults silently greeted each other. Breakfast was another can of soup they heated on the battery run hot plate they had in the kitchen and then Morgan went about lugging his finds from yesterday and setting them away with the rest of their supplies.

 

Rick felt better. Even though he probably had only a few hours of sleep last night, he was feeling rejuvenated and ready to head out. He stopped Morgan as he went moving from the living room to the kitchen to set down a bag of rice. “Hey, I need to talk to you.”

 

Morgan didn't say anything, but he stopped and turned towards him, giving Rick his attention. The lines on his forehead furrowed, an open expression on his pensive face. Morgan wiped the light sheen of sweat off his brow before letting his arms hang loosely at his sides.

 

The werewolf's lips twitched, collecting his words so that they came out in the best way. “I understand you're not meanin' to leave, but I am. I can't stay here. I need to go to the sheriff's department before its too late.”

 

“Didn't think you'd stay.” Morgan said with nod. He looked reluctant for Rick to leave, unsure if he could just let a man wander out there and into an unknown future. It shouldn't matter to him, but the younger man didn't deserve a grizzly death between the jaws of the undead. He breathed in and out, a deep sigh that raised and lowered his shoulders. “What is so important there that you need to make that stop? Be best to not head into town, if you gotta leave. Go straight for the freeway where's there's much less of those walkers an' straight down to Atlanta.”

 

“Yeah. Walkers.” Rick inclined his head, looking away. “Should be able to keep them at bay once I get what I need. The armory should be untouched... if I can just get inside...”

 

“Armory?” Interest piqued in that gruff voice. Rick resisted the urge to grin.

 

“You think the Sheriff's department don't hold their own armory? Yes, armory. Most likely its full inventory.”

 

“You don't know that. Someone could have already hit the place-”

 

“We won't know until we try.”

 

Morgan had an easy face to read. Options were being weighed, decisions rolling around in those open, distracted eyes and lost in his parted mouth. Rick could hear the pick up in his breath at the prospect of unlimited firepower, maybe enough to keep the amount of the undead manageable around the house. Those guns would easily keep Morgan and Duane safe for as long as they keep their guard up from the likes of both the undead and anyone threatening them for supplies and shelter.

 

Morgan's vision cleared, mouth firming with resolution. “I will help you get there, but I only have one request.”

 

“Whatever you want.”

 

“Half of the armory.”

 

“It’s yours,” Rick replied without missing a beat.

 

The tension in Morgan's shoulders relaxed and the man gave him a grateful nod. “I'm guessin' you want to leave today? I'll get my boy ready. He doesn't leave my side.”

 

“Wouldn't have asked differently. He'll be safe.”

 

They drove inwards toward the town of King's County. A hollow feeling expanded in Rick's chest as he for the first time saw what become of the town he loved. They passed the corner of a small diner and a memory of nights eating there with his family had him turning his head away. Driving was deceptively difficult now because, although motionless with the lack of life, the road was strewn with crashed and abandoned cars, collapsed structures, and many unmoving dead bodies. Those that did move caused another obstacle to overcome to what had been a simple task in the past. Either way, Morgan's foot remained firmly on the gas pedal. Rick hadn't said a thing the whole drive.

 

“You know, for the life of me, I have not seen a werewolf come back from the dead.” Morgan said casually like this was a normal sunny day and a normal discussion. Hearing movement behind him, Rick turned around and saw Duane peak over the door and out the window as if seeing for himself if the statement was true.

 

Rick chuckled. “Wouldn't you think that's a good thing?”

 

Laughing, Morgan waved a hand dismissively before setting it back on the wheel. “If it means nothin' to you, then yeah. That's a damn good thing. Rabid flesh-hungry dead dogs on my tail does not sound like a good time.”

 

“I agree.” Rick smiled, grateful for the sudden distraction. He could see their destination right ahead. The building look odd with such little activity going on around it, unused to seeing those front doors remain shut for so long. “Great. There it is. Go 'round back, there should be a gate we can drive right into and shut.”

 

There was only one of those walking corpses mindlessly trudging along inside the fence. Rick watched it and could almost recognize the face of the man in uniform. The gate was closed, and Morgan made a low, frustrated growl as he finally pushed his foot on the breaks. “One of us got ta get out.”

 

“I'll do it.” Rick said and was already opening the door. Coming closer to the fence, he can definitely put a name to the body, remembering the kid as a recent paper pusher fresh out of the academy. The corpse picked up on him, stumbling forward and arms outstretched, gaining speed as he finally found a purpose.

 

Rick pulled the short hunting knife out of his pocket, waiting patiently for the body to lean up against the gates. The young man's hands were too big and the skin was still smooth with his youth, even if mottled with blood and covered in dirt. Fingers pushed through the spaces, shaking with the need to take Rick. He watched him with as much indifference as he could muster.

 

“'m sorry.” Rick muttered even though he was sure the creature couldn't understand. He grasped the front of his khaki shirt poking through the fence until the thing had no choice but to expose his neck and chin. The knife swiftly impaled the base of the head and soon it fell limp, descending to the floor once Rick dislodged the knife and let it go.

 

The gates weren't locked, thankfully, and he pulled that open so the van could drive through. He wasn't sure what he would find in there and the weird biting he was feeling in the bottom of his stomach felt something close to apprehension. As the van drove through he met Morgan's eyes before sliding over to Duane who seemed excited to enter the station. He vowed to himself that he'd make sure they left this place alive.

 

They went straight for the armory. It was something Morgan had looked at Rick oddly for and had even spoken out about. Now in the room as they filled up large bags, he found the issue to be funny. Morgan had first thought he was a criminal before thinking he was a cop. Rick wasn't dumb enough to believe differently with how the other man defended himself, and deep down knew it had everything to do with him being a werewolf. Unregistered wolves always came in to town, brought together in groups by hunters like cattle. It was both fair and unfair as many unregistered wolves tend to reject society and live on their own out in the woods, but there were always those nasty few who kidnapped and turned humans even those who were unwilling. It was usually easy to tell which was which as they came in, but they were all thrown into the same bucket of wild, feral, and dangerous.

 

It was a wonder Morgan hadn't hit him over the head with his son's bat for it, but he seemed to have earned his trust. When Rick said he was a sheriff of the law, Morgan had apologized over his boy's sudden exclamation of awe. Rick didn't have any proof on him, but he must have been convincing with the way he navigated the two within the building and how well he had led them in a loose formation towards the artillery room.

 

Morgan was just zipping up his bag when Rick slid under the strap so it draped over his chest. The room was practically empty now, save for some of the heavier guns. The bullets were all taken, so those guns were practically useless.

 

“Let's head out.” Rick said, catching both of their attention. Duane was also carrying a backpack weighed down by boxes of bullets and cartridges. Rick reached out, hooked his fingers on the loop of the bag and lifted to check its weight, before letting it go.

 

Morgan watched, “You okay, son?”

 

“S'not too heavy dad!”

 

Rick huffed bemusedly under his breath and patted the boy on the back. He reminded him of Carl and his obsession with weapons. It seemed all young boys had it.

 

They went back the way they came, but not until Rick ran into the locker room. It was a last minute thing that came up and he told them both that they didn't need to wait up for him. Morgan stood his ground and pulled Duane a bit closer as Rick entered the room.

 

He found his locker in the corner, second to the last, which was Shane's. Rick dialed in his four digit code before pulling the locker open and peering inside. His hand snapped out for the white pill bottle which he quickly slid between the open flaps of the sling backpack around his chest. He remembered leaving half a month's worth in there. He nearly shut the locker, but his eye caught on a spare uniform, which he unthinkingly grabbed and rolled up before bringing his bag around him and stuffed inside.

 

“Got what you need?” Morgan asked. Rick was shutting the door behind him when he turned around.

 

“Not quite.” Rick answered and pulled out the pill bottle from his bag. He turned the bottle so that the name was facing himself and he read the name of the chemical carefully. “I need more of these. I'm sure there are other bottles sittin' around.”

 

“What are they?”

 

When Morgan looked at it curiously, he turned it so the label was facing him and explained, “My suppressants. 160 milligram capsules is my dose, but anythin' will do.”

 

“What's it for?” Morgan continued with the questions and took up the bottle to read the name.

 

“Most important thing?” Rick said with a dramatic pause. “Keeps my anger in check.”

 

A light scoff. Morgan tossed back the bottle with a grin. It was obvious Rick wasn't telling him everything, but he wasn't about to pry. Rick wasn't ready to tell him that without the pills, he could very well turn anyone into one of him, that the baser instincts smothered with chemicals would come to light. Those were things Rick kept to himself and Morgan allowed him those secrets. “I see. I'll keep an eye out.”

 

They searched around for a bit. It was a bit nostalgic on Rick's part as he rummaged through his colleagues things, and at the same time almost felt wrong of him to do. He was stepping into the privacy of other people as he opened drawers and pushed aside piles of folders, hoping to find something worth taking with him while pictures of their families looked on in what felt like accusation. He had to resist the urge to turn some of the pictures around, especially if he had met the person that came with that face at one point in time.

 

He'd gone through half as fast as he could, but instead of helping Morgan and his son with their scavenging on their side, he told them he was going to check out the locker room. His feet were heavy as they took him towards the darker side of the building. He had already been inside, so his stride was confident.

 

The search was cut much shorter, as he thought. Rick was lucky to open a few lockers that didn't have a code to it, and a few more just because he knew the person well enough to guess. He just wished that werewolves weren't asked to hold their condition private in order to prevent harassment in the station. It was something that always rubbed at Rick the wrong way and was now providing him with obstacles as he had to treat everyone as a possibility. It frustrated him when he came up empty handed.

 

The one pill bottle wasn't going to last him, that was as obvious as the sky was blue and the grass was green. He knew it would take other dangerous trips into facilities and pharmacies just to hopefully find more suppressants, testing his luck on whether or not the place had not been emptied before he could check it out. He slammed the locker he was going through shut, slightly tripping over the clothes he pulled to the floor and took a seat on the bench, head in his hands. He'd never been off the suppressants before in his life, but he'd seen the men who have and heard there stories.

 

It wasn't pain of the withdrawal he was fearful of, but he wasn't looking forward to it. He had come across two or three werewolves in the middle of an attack, the homeless burning up and lashing out in the alleyways and parks and scaring off enough people that the sheriff’s deputy had been called in. It wasn't the fevers, the random state between werewolf and human, the hunger... Although he was sure by the time that comes, he would be ready for it.

 

Without the suppressants his condition was transmittable. A mutation in his DNA was alive in his saliva without it, infectious only when in contact with a wound. A careless bite, even in the throes of his heat, and he might as well just end that person's life. His hand moved over the shadow of hair on his face, feeling the prickles of the beginnings of a full beard scratchy against his palms. There was a light beating right behind his eyes, dull and hot in its slow rhythm. He listened to himself breathe.

 

“Hey, Rick... Might’ve found somethi- Move!”

 

It was a warning that threw Rick off guard. Rick whipped his head up and then over his shoulder, half a second too late as a corpse lunged at him from the shower room. Rick shot his hands out, grasping onto emaciated shoulders, fighting with unimaginable strength as it took him to the floor.

 

Rick's blood was rushing in his ears, or it could have been the raspy growl of the creature bearing its teeth at him, snapping, and drooling like a starving dog. Rick turned his head away, fear as he smelled its foul breath on him, crying out as ragged fingernails tore into his skin. He tried his best to roll them over, but it was done the moment the corpse turned its head and dug his teeth into the flesh of his arm.

 

“Oh God. Oh God...” Rick mumbled, eyes shutting tight as searing pain flamed from the appendage, jerking when Morgan swung his son's bat down over the walker over and over again until it let go. It took Morgan kicking the thing and Rick shoving it off of him like it was plagued to free him and the werewolf scrambled back against the locker as Morgan ended the dead's miserable life. He held his bit arm close to his body, shaking harder than ever. The only thing that was running through his mind was that he wouldn't be able to see his wife and son ever again.

 

In and out, Rick took in ragged puffs of air, trying to control his racing heart. The site of infection started to burn inwards, a poison moving through his veins sharp like rubbing alcohol. Morgan looked at him with pity and loss, looking away with a pained grimace flashing across his face. Rick wasn't ready to die, but he wasn't going to put this man and his boy in danger.

 

“Just do it.”

 

Morgan looked at him when at the sound of his voice. There was refusal in his eyes and in his stance, the bat hung limply in his hands. He was an open book to read and Rick could see it all how this man fought with what was right and what was needed. Those brown eyes shone with tears, frustrated, provoked, and mournful, and with renewed strength he raised his weapon...

 

Only to set it back down at his feet with a defeated sigh, “I can't do it. You're still... not yet.”

 

Rick understood and he took the proffered hand to get him on his feet. His arm was pulled around the other's strong shoulders, taking his weight as they made it out of the room.

 

“Keep back.” Morgan told his son, arm out protectively as they moved out of the room unsteadily. The boy looked on worriedly, his brow wrinkled and frowning. He didn't know what to do but listened to his dad and stepped away. Morgan dragged the other's body along. “Where are we going?”

 

“To a cell.” Rick forced out, voice cracking. “Just lock me in there for the night... Put me down when I've turned.”

 

Morgan nodded and they entered the small cellblock used for intoxicated townsfolk and trouble makers. The cell doors were open so Rick pulled away and simply dragged himself into one. “Key's in the desk over there.” He told Morgan and Morgan was already heading towards it before he could finish the sentence.

 

Rick sat back heavily on the cot, his brain already swimming with fever. Sweat beaded his forehead, and he wiped it off on his shirt sleeve. His blood moved through him like liquid fire, his veins showing dark and dilated on the pale skin of his arms. His breath came in and out of his gritted teeth, eyes shut tight as he leaned his head against the wall. Duane looked at him sadly from across the room. He wished the boy didn't have to see this.

 

Morgan locked the door and urged Duane into another cell for the night. They hadn't eaten, but their appetite was on hold as they waited out the inevitable. Duane was made to face the wall while Morgan kept watch.|  
  


"You, sir, have terrible luck." 

 

Rick couldn't help the dry snort, giving into the much needed laugh that made his bones hurt. "Yeah, well..." he even managed a little smirk with Morgan's short chuckle. The situation was morbid, but the ending was all the same. There was no changing that the end of the road was right there. He gave them their back in turn to suffer alone, laying down on his side and sweaty face shoved in a flat pillow to smother the pain.

 

 

 


	2. Zombie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to update. Because of the length of these chapters, it'll be quite a few time between chapters ^^; I'm sorry if there are any of those who are waiting patiently. I hope this is good enough and that you all can enjoy cx
> 
> Thanks to Redneckwoman for beta-ing my work

Rick woke up vomiting all over the stone floor. The bile was fetid, a dark brown-ish red that smelled coppery and acidic and burned as it came up his throat and out his mouth. He heaved loudly over the side of the bed as he emptied the contents of his stomach, tears prickling in his eyes as the taste made him gag and mouth salivate with thin, sour liquid. His hands were white knuckled and shaking when he felt he had nothing left, head heavy and fatigued.

He fell onto his back, body making a heavy thump as he hit the lumpy mattress, arm over his face. His skin felt clammy even to himself, slick with cold sweat. The clothes he wore stuck to him, scratchy against his skin, sensitive with sickness. That night he felt hot and cold as his body fought off an unknown virus as best it could. He fell asleep fitfully and it was in his deep sleep that his systems did what it could and released the toxins hot in his gut that was now the foul-smelling product on the floor.

“Rick.” Morgan called. He was at the bars, staring at him with concern. His son sat up awake in the bed, startled by the noise. “What the hell was that?”

Rick's tongue felt fat in his mouth and harder to move than usual as he slurred his words. He could just make out the other, his figure a little blurry around the edges like he was behind a dirty glass. “I can't tell you. I don't know.” The arm that was bit was pale and looked lifeless, but it moved just fine like the rest of him. The torn skin was raw with blackened, dried blood. It needed to be cleaned before it festered, but scrubbing the scabs off would re-open the wound. He put it over his calming stomach.

“Can you stand?”

“... I'll try.”

He gave himself a few seconds, making use of Morgan's patience before throwing his legs over and getting to his feet. He sidestepped the dark puddle and made sure to not look at it when he didn't need to as he centered his balance. He felt a little better now that his blood was circulating as it should while he was upright. Rick came up to the bars, holding on with both hands and wanting to rest his head against it, but he kept his head straight and eyes lidded as Morgan looked him over.

A dark hand came through the bars, hesitating before touching his forehead. It pulled away as quick as it was there, and then Morgan was saying, “Open your eyes and look up.” Rick did, as much as it made his eyes ache and water.

“That's not right... You should be feverish... I mean, you were feverish. But you ain't no more.” Morgan pulled the key out of his pocket, going for the door, “Eyes ain't yellowin' neither.”

“What are you doing?” Rick rasped. He almost couldn't believe what he was seeing as Morgan juggled the keys until he got the right one and unlocked the cell door. He gawped at Morgan like he had lost his mind. “I'm turnin' into one a' them-”

Morgan shook his head, stopping Rick mid-sentence. “Ya gonna turn then the symptoms wouldn't have stopped before it even really begun. You are one lucky bastard, Grimes.” He pulled the door open despite the once-cop's quiet, but firm, opposition.

Rick sighed, staring at Morgan and weighing the situation before stepping out. He held the injured arm over his chest, keeping it close to his body. It didn't burn anymore, but there was this phantom throbbing coming from it in a memory of how it felt from just hours before, showing itself in a dull, hot ache. The edges were torn and gruesome, showing signs of infection- a normal infection. Pink skin glistened with pus, blackened blood and red flesh right underneath. The skin was alive and healing.

Morgan pulled him under a flickering light, taking the injured arm and turning it to view the damage. “Now, if I was a scientist, I'd want to see this under a telescope. See what the hell you got.” He snorted softly to himself as he let go, leaving Rick to look at the too dark dried blood.

Rick huffed quietly, “I'll just count my lucky stars.”

“You do that.” Morgan tilted his head towards the doorway. “Found that the water is runnin'. Ain't no more of them walkers in the halls. We downed the one trapped inside.” A small smile made it on his features, “My son and I made use of the showers while you were out.”

“A shower sounds real good right now.” Rick said, a smile of his own tugging on the corner of his lips.

 

* * *

 

Rick tugged on the uniform, a sense of familiarity flooding within him as he buttoned up the khaki shirt and tucked it into his pants. He stared at himself in the mirror now, skin cleaned and newly shaved, almost like his time in the hospital had never past and the world outside had not just become as it did. He only had to ignore how thin he now looked from starving in his coma unattended and how the bite on his arm was a stark contrast against his pale skin. He washed off all of the contaminated blood and revealed the mangled flesh underneath, red and raw and alive. It was wrapped up in a cloth now.

Morgan entered the locker room, a medical kit in hand that Rick recognized from the cell block. He was waved over and Morgan set the kit on the bench, taking a seat. Rick sat on the opposite side.

“How's the bite?” he asked and opened the kit. He was pulling out alcohol wipes and cotton squares, then a roll of bandages. He held a hand out and Rick placed his arm in it, letting him take a look over it.

Rick shrugged. “Looks fine. Walker got a hold on it, but not too much damage.” He could count the teeth etched into his arm.

Morgan snorted, lips pressed together in a firm, dry grin and then he was cleaning around the wound and wrapping it up. “I don't think it'll need stitches. Werewolf genes, you think?”

“You mean tougher skin?” A laugh. “Fairy tales. But we do heal faster. Could be that.”

“Could be.” His hands were quick and practiced, wrapping the gauze around his arm tightly. “Could be why you're not a walker too.”

Rick had thought about it. It rolled around in his mind why he hadn't died and come back to life while he let the cool water run over his body. It reminded him why he hasn't seen another werewolf drifting around with unseeing, milky eyes and rotting on their feet, hungry for human flesh. It was a little unsettling. As much as his genes were keeping alive right now, it also served to prove the point that werewolves weren't quite like the people they're trying to join. Just one step too many on the wrong side.

Either way, Morgan wasn't up on his feet demanding to be changed. The curse is not exactly a blessing when the world they're trying to survive in is decaying around them.

“There ya go.” Morgan wiped his hands on the back of his pants and started to pack away the kit. Rick flexed his arm out of habit, testing out the give. He looked up when Morgan stood, already heading back towards the other room. “Think it's time we head our separate ways.”

Rick nodded and got to his feet as well. A quick check around made sure he wasn't leaving anything behind before he was following after the other man. “It's time. Thank you for comin' out here with me.” He smiled at him, then he was nodding at Duane who smiled brightly back. He hoped they'd make it. The bags waiting for him were thrown over his shoulder and he was ready to go.

“You be safe out there, man.” Morgan said and held out his hand, bowing his head as they shared a short shake of hands.

“You too...- oh, wait-” Rick pulled at his bags and then dug through one. Morgan looked on curiously until Rick took out a walkie talkie and handed it to him. His face reflected understanding as he held the device close to himself. “I'll ring you in every day, tell you what’s going on outside of town. If it’s safe, you and Duane should head over.” He had found the walkie talkies in the armory, at first not having a plan for them other than something he thought would be of use in the future. This was as good a chance as any to use them now.

“I'll take you up on that.” Morgan grinned and he passed the item to his son who came nearer. His hand went to the back of his neck, holding his boy close. “Do you need a ride to the edge of town?”

Rick shook his head, “I got it taken care of.”

Rick watched the pair go before he was on the move again. He decided against changing into his wolf form, though it probably would have been faster and safer for him to get to the center of Atlanta that way. Taking on the change would be useless now with the weight of the bags holding him back. Through the maze of crash sites and abandoned vehicles, he found himself a car, luckily with the keys still in the ignition and door swung wide open. He could guess that the owner had made a run for it and still had the force of habit to turn off the vehicle. The engine roared to life and from there Rick zoomed out of town. He knew he didn't have enough gas on him to get the city, but it was too late now to go siphoning for gas and he didn't want to wander around in the open for very long. He passed a few of those walkers, as he came to call them now, glad for the barrier between himself and their mindless chase. Looking into the rear view mirror, he could still see them coming after him even though at this speed it was useless.

The gas tank gave him nearly half an hour's worth of travel before the car was beeping at him in warning. Rick cursed to himself in the silence, pushing the vehicle on to its very last drop. He shouldn't be more than 15 miles out of the city. He found himself muttering to himself, urging the car for just a bit more while the road was still empty and quiet, but it eventually slowed to a stop and the engine died just like that.

He let out a loud sigh, leaning against the headrest with a quiet thump. A hand came up to rub over his temple and then into his hair, scanning over the supplies he'd brought and trying to figure out how he's going to take with him. It was possible, but the supplies were heavy and if he needed to protect himself, he'd have better luck with that dropping it all and getting the guns would have been for naught.

 

He had no choice anyway. Trees were on both sides of the road and there wasn't another car within sight. He'd just gotten off the freeway, sped down a high way where less cars frequented. He probably should have taken the chance and attempted to hotwire another car while it was still possible in the cramped, still, main road.

Rick opened the door, the car beeping steadily when the keys were still in the ignition. He went to the back and grabbed the two bags, feeling the weight of it cut the straps into his shoulder. He made sure he had a handgun at his belt just in case. Rick hoped he didn't have to use it.

A quick search of the car left him empty handed for any close range weapons. As he made his way on foot, he took care to be quiet now that he was vulnerable. He was hoping the beeping car on the dead silent road would tempt any walkers in that direction while Rick hid himself in the woods, just far enough to still see the clearing of the road. On foot, this could take him all day, and he wasn't looking forward to the coming night.

He wished he had someone to talk to while he walked. The silence was deafening and he was completely unused to the absence of sound. The wind was nearly non-existent so the dense forest was still and lifeless. Every distant, small sound-- the breaking of a twig, the scurry of a small animal-- was like foil being balled up next to his ear. It bothered him most when he couldn't pin point the source.  
  
For once, he thank his fucked up genes when he could smell the stench of rotting flesh and hear the distant groans a little up the way coming towards his direction before they could even notice him. It derailed him for a bit when he had to change course just to be missed by the mindlessly stumbling horde. He hid himself between a tree and a bush, peering over the foliage to watch the group of eight as they bounded towards one direction.

It was the second time Rick was able to sit back and just watch these creatures as they ambled towards some unknown destination, but this time he had his heart in his throat and nervous sweat prickling down his back. He watched them with his back to the tree, turning enough so he could just see them as they past, catching side profiles of wrinkled, gray faces and the gore that was ever present on them. He was too startled to wonder where they were headed and why they were drifting as a pack when he had thought the beasts to be mindless and mostly unaware. They hadn't detected him at all and he just noticed how tightly he'd dug his fingers into the bark as his heart rate slowed back down to normal.

Rick didn't think he'd make it to Atlanta that night until he found a nearby shed. He'd simply went in hoping to find a rake or pitchfork to protect himself, but found a couple of abandoned horses instead. The horses had reared back at the sight of him, but then came slowly forward with tosses of their large heads and quiet trots. He released them all and took one, and rode the horse all the way to Atlanta, making it before sundown.

 

* * *

 

Rick's entered the city on an eerily empty bridge. The one next to it, the one with the road leading the people out was packed bumper to bumper. It was so quiet the sounds of the horse's hooves hitting the gravel echoed down the road and his own quiet breathing sounded thin to his own ears. The horse carried on forward, but Rick couldn't tear his eyes away from the contrasting road and couldn't help himself from imagining the panic in people's faces as they tried their best to get away from danger.

His eyes moved downward. The further along they move towards the city, the gorier the area around the cars and bridge become. He could almost count out the bloody finger prints smudged onto metal surfaces, the scent of it in the air surfacing a scene of screaming people, young and old, men and women. Rick's hands curled tight around the reins, blinking back the images as the brim of his sheriff's hat blocked his sight. It felt like his ears were ringing with the past's screams.

The city was no better. There were vehicles that didn't even make it out, one even a small bus that crashed into a line of parallel parked cars. He only peeked inside for the moment he'd gone past, seeing the bodies lying there in death like they'd been when their lives had been brutally taken away from them. The horse’s nerves were starting to show, his reluctance appearing with every hesitant step back he took. Rick patted his neck, hand moving down the brown fur comfortingly, murmuring to the gelding like he'd been doing the past couple of hours to end the silence.

Rick was starting to lose hope the further into town he went. He didn't know what to expect when he entered Atlanta, but it sure as hell wasn't this. He expected a city closed down in the hopes of survival, he expected being detained and checked for the virus that took the lives of many and reanimated the dead the bodies. It might have been his great imagination then, but his imagination couldn't have really prepared him for the destruction of millions.

That's when he heard it. He heard it before the gelding, his head looking up at the odd metallic, hollow flapping of a helicopter. Rick spun the horse around, a sudden bought of disorientation as he tried to pinpoint the position of the sound. The sound of the chopper's blades were literally bouncing off the tall buildings and seemed to center into him. “Shhh... calm, boy.” Rick shushed, even if his own breaths were trying to silence themselves as he whipped his head about. He saw the reflection of it bounce of a tall sky rise window, and it took him a bit to turn the horse in its direction and take chase.

The wind blowing into his ears deafened him and he didn't take notice to all the noise they were making with the sharp sounds of the horse's hooves meeting the ground. Rick simply wanted the helicopter to come down, and the attention of the people within it. It was something Rick held onto that there were still people who survived the virus, and Rick would take any help he could get.

His eyes remained heavenward, glued to the black silhouette of the helicopter that continued to evade him. Rick was already panting for breath as the horse ran, trying his best to remain on his back with every muscle of his body. He couldn't lose that helicopter now.

He nearly screamed for it to wait, even though he knew whoever inside would not hear him at that height. They were just about to make a turn when the horse reared back, nearly dislodging Rick and sending him tumbling to the floor. His eyes finally left the helicopter, crushed as it disappeared behind the buildings. His heart when down somewhere near his stomach when he finally looked down and saw where his dramatic chase had left him.

Ice blue eyes scanned for an escape, alert raised high as both horse and werewolf circled and looked for an exit. Eventually they simply took the opposite direction of the closest oncoming walker, but yet the bodies were closing in. There were thousands of them, millions if he could let himself believe that the whole city had gone under, milky eyed and empty stomached, seeing for the first time in a while warm flesh to devour.

The finally closed in enough that the horse couldn't do more than back trot and screech in anguish. Rick was pushing off the hands that grabbed and slipped over their bodies, fear eating away at his core. They managed a few steps away, but then the gelding was getting up onto his feet again in a final attempt to flee, front legs kicked out in front of him to knock down the few snapping their jaws. It threw Rick off of his back and Rick landed on the ground, rolling away from the lunging bodies that circled the horse, bringing him down until he couldn't use his strong legs to fight.

There was no time to think or feel any remorse for the horse. Rick was surrounded too, and he tried his best to get away. He was on the ground more than he was standing up, kicking and punching at ice cold hands and giving himself just another second of relief. He crawled on his belly and refused to look behind him as he crawled underneath the first thing he saw. It was a tight fit underneath the tank, his bare arms scratched on the gravel as he tried to put as much distance between himself and the walkers that got to the ground and came after him. Their hissing breaths was all he heard, the light at the end of the tunnel was all he saw. He knew his life was over when a couple more of the undead in front of him went to the ground and crawled towards him. He pulled his gun from his holster, landing a good few head shots and saved one bullet for himself.

Rick's eyes shut and he apologized to his wife and son as he brought out his gun to his head. Just as he was about to pull the trigger, he opened his eyes and saw an opening-- an opening he took without question as he dragged his body up and away from danger. The latch door he dropped shut and then he was scooting himself back as far away from the door as possible. He gulped in air, thanking whoever out there was watching over him as he continued to keep surviving, hoping that it'll still be there so he could reach his wife and kid. Cooling himself to think of his next step, he looked around, nearly jumping out of his skin at the dead soldier besides him. It didn't move or take to his presence, so Rick went for it’s gun.

He noticed last minute that all his tugging had awoken the dead, and this time Rick didn't hesitate and brought his own gun up to it’s temple. He didn't think of the consequences as he pulled the trigger, blasting it’s grey, oozing brain all over the tank wall. Rick's vision blurred, his brain thumping hard in his skull as a piercing high-pitched tone plugged both his ears. The world around him spun. Rick let his head drop into his hands over his bent knees.

 

* * *

 

There was static on the radio. Rick had lost count of the minutes, distracted by the sounds around him that continued to grow. The static now overrode the growling and hissing coming from outside. It felt like days past before a voice came through. “Hey, dumbass! Are you alive in there?”

Rick pushed himself off his backside and towards the counsel, grabbing the hand held radio tight enough to hear the plastic creek, “Yeah,” he gasped, “where are you?”

There was silence on the other end that stretched for nearly a minute that Rick started to believe he'd made the voice up. His hand curled tighter around the radio, fearful that he might actually break it in his hand, but his nerves were making him shake and this was the only thing grounding him in the moment. “Hello!” Rick shouted impatiently.

“Sorry, yeah. I'm on the roof of –- got a clear visual of you in that tank. You want to get out, you gotta listen to me.”

'Why should I trust you?”

“Well, if you don't want my help then-”

“No! … No. I do. What do I do?”

…

Static blemished the quiet and the sound was starting to grate on Rick's nerves the longer he waited. He was going to tear this place apart. He was desperate at his point, with his vision of the outside blocked but the sounds revealing to him that he was surrounded. Rick was feeling his anger rising as the silence from above continued to stretch on with the other taking his time or teasing him with the plan of escape. Impatiently, he pressed down on the button and growled, “You there?”

“Hold your horses! Shit!” Static. “I gotta time this just right. You don't want to get out of the tank and just jump into the arms of those geeks do you? Might as well stick an apple in your mouth and lay yourself down on a silver platter. Wait for my signal.”

Rick waited. His stomach felt like it was filled with squirming worms while nervous sweat beaded on his forehead and face. He knew what was out there the moment he opened the latch.

“Okay, in a couple of minutes the road on the other side of the tank will have a good clearing. When your horse went down it's been a feeding frenzy and they all have gone to get a piece. You got anything on you?”

“Wait a mo- just wait.” Rick went back to the soldier and looted him of his gun. He pulled out the cartridge, counting the bullets before patting down the soldier for anymore, but coming up empty handed. His eyes scanned around, looking for anything else. A grenade sat up top, and he snatched it up.

He returned to the radio, opening the clip and counting the bullets. “I have a Beretta, 15 bullets. I got more in that bag I left behind. Can I get it?”

“Forget the bag! Make those count. There will be one to your left upon exiting the tank. Get him out of the way before he gets you.”

“Alright.”

“And when you do get out? Run. There is an escape ladder that'll take you up here. If you can do this all under five minutes, you'll survive. Go.”

Rick shoved reached above, finding himself a short shovel he could use for close range attack. He took in one deep breath before he was opening the latch above him, pulling himself out of the tank and onto the top. The man's words rang true about the walker to his left, the creature turning towards him with a growl before tripping and climbing its way across. Rick swung at it and a deep welt cut across it's gray face. It fell back and Rick jumped down, groaning as a shockwave shot up his legs from the force of his fall. His head whipped around, looking for those bags he dropped when the horse had reared back, there was no hope for retrieval now as more caught sight of him and lunged in his direction.

 _Run._ He bolted off towards the right and in front of him stood a two story supermarket. It wasn't a straight line like he'd of hoped, and he found himself fending off and dodging rotting bodies with their greedy hands clawing at his clothes and trying to drag him to the floor. He managed to pull himself away, flinging his body forward with all the strength he had, his lungs burning as he made a break for it towards the emergency escape.

The soldier's gun in his hand was raised, even though to these beasts it was an empty threat. His finger remained off the trigger, but he was tempted to blow as many brains out as possible. He had to keep dodging, ducking, retreating even just to hopefully extend his survival and push forward.

 _Don't shoot don't shoot!_ He had to, and the bullet was released between a walker's eyes when it managed to lock both hands around his arms. Blood spurted out over the pavement and more milky eyes turned in his direction. Rick took the chance and shot one after another, his gunshots ringing loudly and bringing attention to himself. He found an open fence and disappeared into the alley where he climbed the ladder fast until his muscles ached and the air stung going into his lungs.

“Nice moves there, pulling some Clint Eastwood shit!” The Asian practically yelled as he pulled Rick up the rest of the way. Rick was on his knees on the floor, hands on his thighs as he caught his breath. The Asian couldn't have been an adult when he first looked at him, sitting there with a frustrated look on his face. “You a sheriff? Still a dumbass!”

“Sorry.” Rick panted and shoved a hand through his hair. His face was flushed and sweat slid down his temple and onto his cheek. He wiped it away with the back of his hand before getting up on his feet, holding a hand out of the Asian man to take.

“Nearly gave me a heart attack.” the younger man said and took the offered hand. “I'm Glenn.”

“Rick. Thanks.”

“Yeah... you're welcome.” Glenn nodded and shook the hand in his before letting go. He looked over the ledge with a heavy sigh, scrunching his nose up at the walkers snapping their jaws and reaching for them from so far below. “Good news? At this height, it'll be the fall that kills us. I'm a glass half full kinda guy.” He walked the opposite direction and Rick followed as they put as much distance as they could between the walkers and themselves on the rooftops.

“Were you the ones that blocked out the alley?”

“What? No. Think the city did that when the outbreak started. People probably thought not that many geeks could get through.” He ran the rest of the way towards a rooftop entrance, opening it up so he can throw his bag down before following it.

“Why did you stick your neck out for me back there?”

“Call it foolishness or me being naïve, but if there was ever a chance I needed help, then I would hope this'll come back around and someone would do the same for me.” Glenn flashed him a smile, “Guess I'm an even bigger dumbass than you.” He got on the ladder to make his way back down. Rick jumped on next.

“I owe you.”

“Yeah, you do.”

The kid was cheeky, Rick could give him that.

They went down to the first floor where Glenn pulled out a walkie talkie and started to talk into it. His voice carried on fast, almost too fast for Rick to understand and he wondered if the people on the other side even caught it. As they were descending a short case of stairs, Glenn had stopped abruptly and Rick nearly barrelled into him. He looked up and saw two walkers coming their way.

“Shit. You got that shovel on you?”

Rick didn't even remember where he last dropped it. “No.”

They held their breath and Rick's hand curled around his gun defensively. It was then the door on the opposite side flung open and two heavily armored man came running out with heavy, metal bats. They took the walkers down to the floor with their strong swings, smashing their heads flat against the concrete with their strikes.

Glenn shoved Rick forward and both men ran towards the open door. “Come on let’s go! Let them rot, they're done! Let's go!” The two men finished their job and came back in as fast as they went out and the door came slamming shut behind them.

Rick could only hold his breath as a gun was held to his head, nearly falling back if only he wasn't cornered against a table top with a blonde woman glaring at him through angry tears. His hands came up and he stared down the barrel at the woman and how she shook and tried to look menacing, despite the watery frown on her red face. “You _killed us!_ ” She screamed and the gun is pressed closer, but not enough to touch him. He could tell she's never held a gun to a person in her life, “You got their attention and now they're all here! You killed us!”

“Dammit, Andrea! Back off!” One of the men covered from head to toe in thickly layered cotton armor strode forward.

“You're kidding me right? We're all dead because of this asshole.” She hissed and her small hand bunched up in his khaki shirt, gun shaking even more. He looked over to the Mexican and back at Rick, finger temptingly laying over the trigger.

“I said back the hell off! Or pull the trigger.”

Rick swallowed thickly, eyes staring into hers, but not pleading for his life. He could see that she didn't have it in her to kill a man just yet and within a few seconds she was dropping her gun with a curse. “We're dead. All of us. Because of _you.”_

“I don't understand...”

“Look.” His armed was grabbed and he looked around to make sure Glenn was still behind him as he was dragged forward, mostly for his own comfort. The stranger was pulling him away as he said, “We left our group back where it's safe while we go into town to scavenge for supplies. It was gonna be an easy in and out we're done. That was our plan for survival. You know what surviving is, right? That means sneaking around, not shooting a gun like it’s the O.K. Corral.” They entered the front of the department store where the windows had clouded up with grime and dust, but the silhouettes of the bodies beyond that were clear. The black man with them nudged his shoulder from behind.

“Everythin' from miles around heard you poppin' off rounds. It bought them all here.”

They all jumped as beyond the meaty beating of fists hitting glass, a much sharper bang of something more solid hit the window. Andrea released a whimper, a hand coming over her quivering lips, while the other grasped the only other woman in the group. They moved back and they were back to questioning him, pointing their fingers at him.

“The hell were you doing out there anyway?”

“I was trying to flag down a helicopter.” Rick threw an arm out and then his hands on his hips, eyes still on the windows stressed by the weight pushing on it.

The black man snorted, “That's a load of shit. There ain't no helicopter.”

“You were hallucinating. It happens...” The nameless woman said, voice calm. Her brown eyes still held a bit of accusation.

Rick frowned, voice firm, “I saw it.”

“Fine. Fine, whatever! We gotta get out now.” Glenn said in a rush. “T-Dog, you got a signal?”

The black man held up his walkie talkie, but all he got was static. “Can't reach the others.”

“Others? You mean at the refugee center?”

The darker woman scoffed, “Yeah, the refugee center. They're baking biscuits back there.”

“Guys stop it!” Glenn huffed and said to T-Dog, “Maybe up on the roof?”

They all ducked when ringing gunshots from outside penetrated the store. Andrea looked on the edge of hysterical as she paced, pushing back the loose strands of her pony tail. “That Dixon? That idiot!” She was the first to run further in, taking the stairs to get to the roof. She was tailed by everyone else just as the cracks in the windows started to look like they were going to shatter to the ground.

They rushed out and on the ledge stood a tall, older male with a rife in his hands, shooting out at the crowd of zombies coming their way. He had this gleeful grin on his face, his blue eyes shined glassy under the sun. Rick recognized his face immediately.

“Hey Dixon! Are you crazy?!” The Mexican shouted, but it was T-Dog and Andrea that dared to go nearer to the armed man.

Dixon laughed, waving around the rifle like it was a toy, “Hey, hey, hey! You should know better than to disrespect a man holding a gun... or at least have the common sense.” He jumped off the ledge, his stride confident and wide.

“Ya can't be wastin' bullets we ain' even got out, man! Now ya'll bringin' 'em all down here- the hell is wrong wit'chu? Just chill!” T-Dog threw his arms up, gestures that berated the Dixon's actions. His speech got thick with his street talk, enough to make Dixon's upper lip curl in distaste.

“Hey! Bad enough I got this taco-vendor on my ass all day, now I'm going to take orders from you? I don't think so. That'll be the day.”

“'That'll be the day'? You got somethin' ya wanna tell me?”

The other man tried to break in, “Hey T-Dog, just leave it-” “- _No_ -” “-It ain't worth it!”

Merle scoffed, his chin raised like he was above them, “Ya wanna know the day? … I'll tell ya the day, Mr. Yo. It's the day that I take orders from a mangy mongrel _dog_ -”

“ _Mother fucker_ -” T-Dog dealt the first punch, but Dixon was bigger and stronger than him, easily taking the hit and dishing out his own. Rick jumped in when the issue got out of hand, the others screaming for the two to knock it off, but Merle had gone into a rage and he was beating down on a wolf brother.

Rick's nose flared at the human male's violence and he grabbed him on the shoulder to drag him off the other when he was caught in the face with a nasty punch, putting him on the floor on his side. He just caught the sight of Dixon slamming T-Dog face first in the pipe, his blood shining red on the metal gray.

Rick saw red. T-Dog was already on his back, head tucked down instinctively as he refused to submit. The others were cowering as Dixon talked over them, trying to gain their following through fear. When he asked for a raise of hands, the Mexican was the first to do so, then Glenn hesitantly, and Andrea. The last woman pulled up a middle finger, but she didn't do more.

Dixon gloated loudly and then he asked if he was going to have any opposition. Rick had just picked up the rifle Dixon dropped and he came up behind the other man, growling out a quiet, “Yeah. Me.” When Dixon turned around, his eyes showing shock, the butt of the rifle came crashing down over his head and Rick was there grabbing a thick wrist, cuffing him to the pipe.

Rick dragged the man up by his shirts, and snarled in his face as Dixon spat out threats. “You best show some respect to a man with a gun. Or at least some common sense.” Rick growled the repeated words.

Dixon bared his teeth at him, his cloudy eyes staring at him in anger before they grew thoughtful. “Who the hell are you, man?”

“Officer Friendly. Now you learn somethin' quick. There are no _dogs_ here anymore, like there is no dumb as shit white trash inbreds. There is only red meat and dead meat, There is us, and them. We get through this by pulling together, not apart.”

“Yeah, yeah, Officer. Seen ya before... had I hit yer town before? Caught'chu some wolf and brought ta town-” he paused, a grin spreading across his face. “Oh, I know you now, Officer Friendly. Almost didn't recognize ya without'cher collar. They let the dog out of the cage?”

  
“I see you make the habit of missing the point.” The gun hammer was pulled back and Rick was holding a gun to Dixon's temple. _“Merle_. I can call you that? You're gonna stay right here while the rest of us plan a way out.”

“Yer gonna shoot me? Do it. Ye're just a _dog._ ”

“I'm just a man looking for his wife and son. Anything getting in the way of that is going to lose. Do you understand that?” Dixon narrowed his eyes at him, lips curling again in disgust at him. Rick lifted the man's chin and then flicked his nose with a knowing exhale of a breath, then searched his pockets. “You missed somethin' there.”

He left the man sitting there chained to the pipe and threw his small tube of coke over the ledge. He next heard Dixon pulling on his cuff, screaming at him for doing so. It was easier to ignore the man when he was less threatening and on the ground.

“When I get out of this ya better pray! You hear me! You freak! You filthy monster!"

 

* * *

 

 

The original plan was a failure before it even started. Jackie had told them all about the sewers underneath a building as old as this one when they realized a walk through the undead would be virtually impossible, but when Glenn and Morales went to check it out, only found a dead end. They gathered together on the rooftop to evaluate and soon Rick was suggesting something he knew they'd all hate.

It had to be done.

They took from the department store the items they need to protect their skin from what they were about to do and once their skin was covered, Morales and T-Dog were dragging in one of the dead bodies they downed in the alleyway. It was taken into an empty room with concrete flooring, the space wide enough for them to circle the dead body lying flat on the ground.

Rick had a fire axe in his hands, having broken it out as the others retrieved the walker. His lips firmed, axe raised once the people had backed away, but he couldn't bring himself to bring the axe down on the body. He made a few starts, arms tense over his head, but the sharp end of the axe never found the body. He dropped it to the floor with a fast exhale of breath he didn't know he held, breathing in and out shakily as he bent over the body.

He could feel everyone's curious gaze on him as he rifled through the walker's pockets and got it's wallet. He flipped it open, read the name, saw a glimpse into this man's life. There wasn't much more he could do for him, and he hoped his soul was resting. It was short of an actual prayer for the dead, and he felt the man before he became a walker deserved much more than this, to be disemboweled for a disguise. He had nothing to say.

“Wait.” Glenn stopped him, still holding up the card. Rick had picked the axe up again and knew this time he wouldn't miss. “He's an organ donor.” Like that made it any better.

“Okay.” The axe came down, cutting through air and then into the stomach of the corpse. Sounds of disgust came out of the group as Rick continued to disembowel and dismember the walker, breaking up guts and spilling foul smelling fluid all of the floor. Glenn was the most sick, couldn't even look in the direction of the gore and gagging every few seconds.

Each blow was draining on Rick's energy. He couldn't help but feel like this was all wrong as he mutilated a human body for their use. He never thought once that a necessity would make a monster out of him and that he'd be brought to attack a human body. Before this, walkers were things - creatures that hungered for him and made a prey out of him and needed to be fought off. The corpse laying before him, though, only reminded him that those walking corpses were still all too human.

He passed the axe over to Morales when he could do no more, but held his arm out to stop him from continuing. He dug his gloved fingers into the mess of the caved in torso and reached for Glenn, who whimpered and shut his eyes. He tried to get every bit on the raincoat he donned and told the younger man to keep breathing and think of something else.

T-Dog muttered something about dead kittens and puppies and soon the stench of bile added to what was already in the air.

Andrea was putting a string of intestine around Glenn's neck and looking up as Rick continued to smother the Asian in guts, saw how his mouth trembled in it's deep frown. He felt sorry for the kid and patted him on the shoulder, feeling he was done for now.

“Remember, you're not the bait here. That's me and T-Dog's job. Just try not to stick out like a sore thumb.”

“Right. Just gonna pretend to be one of them, right? Easy as pie.” His words were confident, but his tone wasn't, those brown eyes wide.

Andrea pushed aside a corner of Glenn's raincoat, putting her gun in the waistband of his pants. “If you need it. You keep yourself safe out there, Glenn.”

“Thank you, Andrea.”

“You better come back for us.”

Before they let Morales open the door, Rick handed over the key for Merle. “You unlock him immediately. He either follows or he doesn't. If he's a threat, kill him.”

Morales nodded, his hand tight around the key and then he was opening the door.

T-Dog and Rick rushed out, downing the two walkers in the alley. T-Dog used a bat, the dull thuds louder than the sounds of Rick's axe cutting through flesh. When they showed no sign of movement he nodded for Morales to close the door and then both men were disrobing where they stood.

“You really gotta do this naked?” Glenn whined, but it was more from having to waste time waiting for the other two men to shift. He knew nothing about werewolves, but from what he'd managed to learn the short time he knew T-Dog, he at least knew they were in control in both forms. He shifted from foot to foot, watching them both impatiently.

“Yeah, now would'ja shut up? This ain't never pleasant.” T-Dog grimaced and dropped his eyes, facial features twisting as his flexed his muscles. He was transforming before Rick could, his quiet growl lost within the alley.

Glenn's jaw dropped, his eyes wide as he watched a transformation before his eyes. Rick quietly snarled at him to turn away and the kid did quickly, his face colored pale and green. Rick soon started the change as well, feeling a little sick to the stomach as his body crunched and formed into the familiar massive body of his wolf.

Both wolves stood next to each other, large bodies that reached Glenn mid chest. He was a bit in awe of the canines, one a gleaming gray and the other a deep brown. He sighed heavily, lips pursed and eyebrows raised in disbelief. He was in the presence of wolves and they weren't tearing into his stomach.

“Okay. So I'll go out first and head towards the direction of the construction site, right? You'll be right behind me?”

Rick nodded once and huffed loudly through his snout for the kid to get moving. Glenn muttered, “Okay, okay...” and was getting on the floor to crawl underneath the bus.

Rick and T-Dog lay in wait, bodies nearly flat against the floor as Glenn crawled out. They watched with sharp, glowing eyes underneath the bus as the human walked into the crowd of corpses, limping and wielding the axe in both hands. They couldn't see the fear in his face, but they could scent it on him and see it in his drawn up shoulders. Luckily, the walkers considered him one of theirs and let him pass.

Glenn made the first block without issue and that was when Rick moved out with T-Dog right behind him. They were silent as they quickly moved around, but soon they were gaining attention. Rick started growling, barking loudly before releasing a loud howl. T-Dog bared his large teeth, snapping strong jaws as the undead labelled them as food and stumbled towards them and away from Glenn.

They ran around them, easily outmanoeuvring the bodies that walked on unstable legs, lunging low enough to fall face first and missing them by inches. Rick felt the adrenaline flow his body, high with the chase as he bowled over hungry corpses with the front of his paws or his side. He trusted T-Dog to watch his own back, and could hear the other wolf's confident barks and growls as he tore flesh underneath his paws.

He'd only had to attack T-Dog once, and that was to stop him from biting into the neck of a walker. A single snarl got the point across and they were back to before, making sure they made as much noise as possible and bravely keeping the corpses from noticing Glenn. They made sure to keep a safe distance from him, winding the walkers around on a meaningless chase, rounding them up like cattle. They took the collection of undead around the corner, making sure they were distracted and lost before heading back through alleyways, too quick on their feet for the undead to follow.

They did it again and again until rain fell from the gray sky. Scents started to change, the strong scent of wet pavement making the stench of the corpses stale and Glenn's own muddled. Rick could see ahead of him how Glenn started to stumble further away from the corpses that were coming closer, noticing the change.

Rick sprinted and before the one behind Glenn, who was too scared to turn around a look, could even touch him, Rick was jumping on top of the corpse and ripping his claws through the back of it's head. Immediately the walkers attacked and Rick was rushing into Glenn's back to make him to run.

Rick and T-Dog remained on the ground, making sure Glenn got on the other side of the fence before attempting a jump. Their strong legs made it possible with two, quick paws pulling them up the gate and over. The wolves paced as the walkers attempted to jump over the fence as well, much slower and clumsier than if they were alive. Glenn rushed to get a key for the cube van and then he was jumping in.

“You guys coming or what?!” He screamed, but Rick was shaking his head and T-Dog was staring him down. Glenn was breathing hard, indecision warring within him as he didn't want to leave his two friends behind, but they needed to get the truck to the department store and sitting back would only just get them killed. He floored it and knocked down the gates, the corpses going down with it, and the wolves took the opening as they chased down the high speeding van.

Rick and T-Dog tempted the corpses with their howls. They jumped over bodies, and once one of them had the coast cleared, the other was pulling his head back and calling for the walkers to come near. The howls rang loudly between the buildings over the rain and they kept themselves out in the open so the undead could continue to come closer and closer in the hopes to feed.

They tempted fate by pacing there, clearing the road by being on the other side of the block for Glenn to speed through. When they were close enough, the wolves were retreating, being the distraction Glenn needed. They circled around the block, panting loudly but aided by their urge to survive. It couldn't have been more than ten minutes before they noticed the cube van running the opposite direction of the department store.

T-Dog nudged his large head against Rick's side, and once they noticed it was time to go, they were running after the van. Their strong legs caught them up to the van, leaving the creatures that clawed after them on slippery feet. The back door was open and Glenn was slowing down just a bit, enough for both T-Dog and Rick to give that single push and jump in.

They were drenched in rain, water dripping from their fur in puddles on the floor. Towels were thrown over them, Jacqui and Andrea swathing them underneath towels to get their shivering bodies to dry. He felt from underneath hands scrubbing him down and he growled in warning, not wanting these people to touch him.

It stopped and it was oddly silent. Rick expected Merle to start opening his mouth, probably mutter about sharing his space with a couple of wet dogs, but there was none of that, not even an explanation. Completely covered, Rick attempted one more change back into his human body, hissing through clenched teeth the more human he became. T-Dog wasn't nearly as quiet, a sharp yell coming out from under the number of towels on top of him, but he was still breathing. That was all that mattered.

The towels hung around his body and kept his modesty. Rick pulled one of the blankets from his head, scanning around for the people that made it. He counted heads. They were missing one.

Morales wouldn't look at him.  
  
“Where's Dixon?” When he didn't get an answer, he asked quietly, “Did you kill him?”

“No!” Morales said sharply and let his shoulders dropped. “I let him out, but he was a lose cannon. I managed to knock him out on the roof, but he's too heavy- I couldn't- I couldn't take him with me. He's safe!”

“You best hope he is, Morales... Daryl will skin you alive.” T-Dog said, even though they all knew underneath it all he must have been a bit happy that they left that man up there to his fate.

Morales nodded quickly, “Of course! I locked him up on the roof with a chain and padlock. Nothin' is going to reach him but us.”

Rick cursed under his breath, hand over his mouth. Up on that roof would be a very angry werewolf hunter, one of the best in the East coast, and he was going to blame this all on Rick.


	3. Bad Blood

 

“So, you wanna talk about where you came from?”

 

Rick looked up. He'd been lost in his own thoughts, watching his hands hang over the space between his knees and how they move with the van's rocking. It had gone silent in the van, the excitement of their escape all bleeding out of them in an instant when they they realized they left a man trapped like an animal on the roof of the department store. Merle was now in fate's hands, exposed to the heat of the sun without shade, water, or food. If the walkers didn't get him first, nature surely will. Morales looked pale and hadn't changed since the last time Rick looked at him. No one stepped up to comfort him and his own storm of thoughts raging behind those brown eyes. Across from him, Jacqui had this look to her, her face screwed between guilt and relief. Everyone else was within range of both their demeanor, either laden with guilt or letting it slide off like water off their back. Andrea was looking back at him from the passenger's seat up ahead, her face a mask of curiosity, dandelion hair swaying around her face. The corner of Rick's lips quirked into a tight, nearly there smirk and he looked away to glance down at his palms that were now held open to himself.

 

Rick answered a beat late, “Ain't much to tell you.”

 

Andrea didn't let it drop. She shifted in her seat even more, knee early knocking out the shift. Glenn shot a hand out, muttering 'hey, hey!', pushing her long leg aside and making her roll her eyes before continuing. She dropped her chin demurely, “No. Everyone's got a story.” She went on, trying her best to redirect all their dark thoughts as best she could, “I got a sister back with the group. We were on a road trip when all this happened... I'm glad I got her.”

 

Rick nodded and absently felt the smoothness of his blunt fingernails. He breathed out and repressed a flinch as his past caught up to him after it being suppressed in the haze of the present. His memory supplied vividly the yelling and screaming – almost too sharply, the crying. He remembered nights spent alone on the couch after making sure Carl was tucked in in bed, doing his part to keep his boy blissfully unaware by the broken marriage he held with his mother, who laid cold upstairs in their bed. “Yeah...” Rick shifted, “No stories to tell, Andrea. Just out here looking for my wife and son.”

 

Her sigh was loud from up front, as well as the sound of her looking away and pushing herself back against the seat.

 

T-Dog said, “Well, I got something to say – and that's that, you Andrea, is a damn lucky bitch. Ain't got a hint of where to begin on my pack.” Rick felt a nudge on his knee and T-Dog nodding empathetically, “Hurt's everyday, not knowin'. But i'm takin' it as a sign that they're all still out there and alive.”

 

“Just yesterday you told me you could smell a geek from a mile away. What, now you're saying werewolves got a sixth sense?”

 

“It's called faith, Andrea... and maybe knowin' that us wolves have more of a chance out there than you people.”

 

“Hey, what do you mean by _you people...”_ Andrea snickered and threw a pad of paper back at T-Dog. For the first time since meeting them in the heart of Atlanta, the group allowed themselves a moment to laugh. “Hey look! There's our camp. Man, they're sure gonna be happy to see us safe.”

The van crawled right in next to the Winnebago and came to a halt. Rick sat in the van and from there he could hear the people outside celebrating their return. He felt an emptiness knowing that his family wouldn't be out there to greet him warmly, and maybe even see his wife's face light up for the first time in months. It was down time for him, sitting alone and with not a single lead on Lori and Carl, that he was able to sit and remember that he'd been in a failing marriage before all of this – and that maybe he was wasting his time looking.

 

He heard Morales mention him, but not by name. Rick figured now was as good as time as any to introduce himself to the crowd of people, so he jumped out of the van to join. It was a sea of unrecognizable faces, but their expressions were grateful, enough to make him grin wide and bashful at anyone who met his eyes.

 

“Rick?” It was that recognizable voice that stopped Rick in his tracks, his breath catching in his throat so that all he could reply with was this choked gasp. He whipped his head around, looking over people's heads until he saw the person he was looking for, staring at him with brown eyes shining with recognition and awe. When he felt he could breathe again, he found his legs have gone ahead of him, walking towards the man standing there shocked with his mouth hanging open hoping to catch the words he wanted to say. “Jesus, man. You're alive!” Shane exclaimed and when Rick was close enough, he was dragged forward against his body, arm wound tight around his neck. Rick's arms wrapped around Shane, disbelief present in each ragged, overwhelmed exhale that the man he'd come to call his brother was right here.

 

“Jesus Christ. I thought you were dead... when Lori didn't-”

 

“Lori? Where's is she?”

 

Shane looked away when Rick backed up, a deep sigh escaping him as he pushed a hand through his hair. He made a point of keeping his gaze fixed over Rick's shoulder and his lips firmed into a straight line.

 

“Where's Carl? Come on, Shane... talk to me.” Rick had a pleading tone in his voice as he reached for Shane, anchoring himself as he gripped his biceps. He looked up at the man that he trusted, searching for something in his shuttered expression, and unable to shut off his own thoughts whirling around screaming that his family was still missing.

 

“He's in the...” Shane flung his hand towards a tent just at the edge of a clearing, recognizing it as his own whenever he took his boy out in the woods. Shane looked uncomfortable, but it didn't even register to Rick who muttered to him, “Thank you. _Thank you,”_ before rushing over to the tent.

 

“Wait.” Shane grabbed his forearm, getting him to stop before he could check in on his son. There was that guilty look to his face again, like he'd figured something out while Rick was gone and didn't know how to say it. The people around them seemed to fade away into the background as he stared at Shane and how he fidgeted and worried over his words. It was unlike him. “Lori ain't with you?”

 

Something buried deep within Rick cracked at the question and he could feel a cold wash fall upon him. He zeroed in on what Shane had just said to him- that Lori should have been with _him_ , but she wasn't. She wasn't here. “Shane... what aren't you telling me?” Rick said, and its only a decibel above a whisper. He watched Shane rub a hand over his mouth, his other going to his hip as the things Shane needed to say seemed to hurt on its way out. “You need to tell me right now.”

 

“She went back for you.” Shane said finally and then stuttered as he tried to explain, broken up over how Rick shuddered and caved in on himself, “And- and- and I _tried_ to go with her, Rick. Believe me, I did. But she wouldn't let me-”

 

“- No. Shane you let her go _alone?--”_

 

_“-- Listen_ to me, brother. It wasn't my- wasn't my intention, you know that. To leave her out there to fend for herself. She needed me to keep Carl safe and I did. She made me promise her, Rick- _promise_ that I wouldn't go lookin' for her and leave Carl behind.”

 

Rick's feet nearly gave out from under him. He stumbled towards a tree to keep balance, eyes downward and away from Shane, feeling the bubbling of blame that he wanted to pin the other man, but couldn't. He swallowed thickly, eyes reddened with the tears he refused to let fall, words choked up in his throat that needed to be said to the one person missing. “She went back to the hospital?” He croaked.

 

“Yeah. She had to make sure you were okay, but- Its been two months. That's all I know- that's it.” Shane looked away, hands running harshly through his own hair in defeat. With a shake of his head he muttered, “Should a' been _me._ I should have been the one to go.”

 

“God _,_ Shane.” His voice cracked. His hands come up to press the heel of his palms against his eyes until it hurt. There was so many things that needed to be said and fixed and now it looked like there will never be a chance. Now Lori was out there fending for herself, maybe even dead. They had been so selfish and angry before, it was funny how things worked when they were suddenly torn away from each other. Now his son was without his mother and his small pack was broken. He failed his family and protecting what was his.

 

Rick tried his best to swallow around a lump in his throat, ignoring how his eyes spilled a couple of tears that were heavy with regret and guilt. Shane murmured to him, shook his head and beat up over Rick's fall, squeezing at his shoulder and invading his space. Rick could only look at him for second before he rasped out, “Carl... how is he?”

 

“Missin' you. Missin' Lori. Boy never gives up, you know? Got a strong a kid.”

 

“What do I say about his mom? If he brings her up?”

 

Shane sighed, the hand on Rick's shoulder coming up to cup his neck, “I don't know, man... I'll be right there.” He held him there and made sure their eyes met. Rick latched onto what strength Shane was extending to him before patting his forearm and moving away.

 

Rick ducked under the opened flap of the tent, and saw his boy kneeling with a blonde little girl, looking over a couple of comic books Rick recognized getting him a month earlier, the same comic books that Lori threatened to throw away if Carl's grades suffered. He looked at his son, safe and whole, felt his heart swell with relief. His voice shook with emotion as he called the name of his pup. The kid startled, brown hair whipping around to show him matching blue eyes, then widened when he saw who it was in front of him.

 

“Dad!” Carl yelled and scrambled onto his feet to jump on his father. Rick soon had his arms full, laughing and teary eyed as he buried his face in his son's hair, breathing in his unmistakable scent. Carl nudged his head against his chest, puppy-like and searching, before he was looking up at his dad. “Where's mom? I don't... I can't find her on you.”

 

Shane ushered the girl out of the tent, and she hurried to a gray haired woman after a final look at the father and son. At the lost look Rick sent him, Shane bent forward, “Hey, little man.” He put his hand on the small shoulder, gaining his attention, “Thought I told you not to pull those out until _after_ you do your school work. Lori'd have my hide if I let you fall behind. Now, did you finish?”

 

“No, but I want to talk to my dad.” Carl said and looked up at Rick to see if it was okay. “I want to know where mom is.”

 

“Well, that's the thing, Carl... Me an' your dad need to talk about that.”

 

Carl's smile faltered and his transparent blue eyes shifted between both men. They could see the tears welling right over the surface, his small body tense and trembling before he was looking out the open tent. People were celebrating, but his mom wasn't here. “She's not...”

 

“Shh, shh, shh... Carl, she's alright. ” Shane said and stood as tall as he could in the tent, trying to block Carl from looking outside, “She's okay. She's coming back.”

 

Carl nodded quickly enough that the tears actually fell down his round cheeks. “You think so too, right, dad?”

 

“I...” _don't know._ Rick searched Carl's face, not wanting to lie to him, but also refused to make him worry. He pushed back straight, brown hair, “She's out there. She'll come back to us.”

 

“Yeah, she will. She's the strongest human I know, which is sayin' somethin'. I know a lot of people.” Shane said with a grin and Carl was smiling up at him, wet, ruddy cheeks pulled up high for a full grin. “Now why don't you go out and join Sophia with Carol... don't you whine at me now. Promise if ya finish your school work before tomorrow, we can wake bright and early and we'll take your dad out and teach you somethin' new.”

 

“He's right, you need to study. I'm not goin' anywhere.” Rick said and held Carl by his forearms, giving himself another chance to look the boy and up and down. From his knees, he looked straight at Carl and gave him a crooked, little grin, one that the boy returned with a sniffle.

 

“You promise?”

 

“I promise. I love you.” He leaned down and kissed his son's exposed forehead, letting his lips linger as he heard his boy say the words back. He was given some privacy with his son, so Rick sat there for the few minutes with his boy in his arms, renewing a vow that he'd protect his son with his life.

 

 

It was a much later night when he decided to crawl out of his tent and sit by the small fire with everyone else. Food was being passed around to the small group that had been gone and a plate was even given to him by a graying woman with a young face. She had a timid smile as she handed the plate to Rick and a quiet voice when she answered him saying 'thank you'. She shuffled away just as silently and Rick watched her, piecing together what he saw and having them settle into place when she returned to a squat looking man who hissed at her and dragged her to the ground.

 

“That's Carol. She got a little girl, Sophia. She plays with your son.” T-Dog said between bites, not even looking up. It prompted Rick to start eating too, who kept his eyes roaming. “Her husband is an asshole.”

 

“Yeah, I figured.” Rick muttered. He wanted to help, but it was years into his profession that taught him that you couldn't help those who didn't want any. Right now he could only watch from a distance, ready to step in if anything became violent. His eyes drifted over the group, landing on Shane who sat next to Andrea. He focused on them for a bit, smiling to himself as he watched his friend flirt casually. It was nice and with everyone calm, Rick could almost force himself into believing this as another camping trip with friends. Underneath the stars, the woods around them undisturbed, it was like the earth was at peace and that there weren't dead walking around, that there weren't people out there lost and desperate in between.

 

The silence between them stretched.

 

“You know, I'd be wary of Daryl when he comes back.” T-Dog said suddenly, breaking Rick from wandering his eyes from face to face.

 

“Daryl?” Rick recalled T-Dog mentioning that name before. He blinked, scoring his memory of Dixon and came up blank. He didn't remember the crew he crowded himself with when he entered the station, didn't remember anyone that resembled the sharp, closed features of the tough brawler. Maybe he never showed up the few times Merle's crew came around, or maybe the younger Dixon was easy to miss in a crowd.

 

T-Dog sniffed and nodded. “Merle's brother. Hunters. Think you already know that.” The other man set his fork down on his empty plate before setting them down by his feet, “He's gonna be pissed when he finds out Merle was left on that roof. Blame us.” T-Dog snorted dryly, “His temper is legendary.”

 

A wry smirk found its way to his lips. “We'll face it when it comes.” He said this confidently, but he couldn't help feeling discomforted knowing there was a wolf hunter among them, around his son. His blue eyes scrolled over to his boy, still too young, too weak to present clearly, but Rick knew the stories of what happened to young Lycan pups found out in the open. His parents had made it clear when as he grew up as the first generation of his family to be registered upon birth.Though the world has changed now, he still couldn't find himself trusting a man who hunted his kind for the sake of safety for humans. “How is he with...” Rick started, eyes still on Carl, maybe the only wolf child in the camp.

 

“The pups?” T-Dog asked and even nodded to Morales' family with the two children he had. Rick was surprised, haven't even noticed their scents, but breathing in now, the scent of wolf came upwind from their location. “Leaves 'em be. Ain't as bad as Merle, but still a pain the ass.”

 

It didn't do much for the protectiveness he felt that slammed up like a wall.

 

“How're ya feelin'?”

 

“Hm?” The question caught Rick off guard. T-Dog had turned towards him, hand on his knee and widening his stance on his seat. He looked at Rick with concern, empathy, and suspicion. It made Rick sit back, felt his muscles tense unnervingly.

 

“How are you doin'?” T-Dog said more clearly. His words came out carefully, like he was unsure if he should even voice it, “You know, with you're mate missin'.”

 

“My mate.” Rick repeated and thoughts of Lori, and all his worry, and everything before that fell upon him hard at the mention of her. He'd just gotten a hold of himself separated from the group and with his son safe besides him, but it was a splash of ice cold water that his wife was still out there and in danger, if not dead. He didn't think he'd ever know. “Keepin' it together. I'll look for her.”

 

“And leave your son?” T-Dog asked. “Because he ain't goin' out there-”

 

Something snapped within him, making Rick snarl, “He's not yours.” T-Dog flinched under his intense and unwavering stare, caught under the ice of his blue eyes.

 

The other backed down in an instant and Rick stopped the slight baring of his teeth. Rick hadn't even noticed and he looked away, fingers twitching around his plate at being challenged so openly for one of his own. “Didn't mean it that way! I'm only sayin' its safer here, he's got protection here.” He nodded over to the woman Morales was with and like she heard she was being talked about, looked their direction and gave them a nod back. Rick calmed at the sight of her, at knowing there was more like himself that had survived the Turn. T-Dog settled his eyes back on him. “There's more of us here, and we protect our own.” He scrutinized Rick next, plate set down over his lap half done with his meal. He leaned in and whispered, “You've been on your suppressants?”

 

“Been a couple of days,” Rick said.

 

T-Dog grunted and kicked out his feet. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out an orange bottle, tossing four large pills into his palm. “Here. Ain't an alpha, but this should do it, right?”

 

Rick nodded and took the capsules in hand. “I got some in the bag I left in the city... if I can get back to it...”

 

“It's nothin'. If we live long enough to go feral, I'd rather deal with my own demons than deal with your alpha bullshit.”

 

Rick swallowed down the pills dry, one by one. If he didn't find a new bottle tomorrow, he knew he would eat through the beta's subscription faster than they'd see coming. When T-Dog shook more into his palm, probably for Rick so he had some to take in the morning, Rick held his hand out and shook his head.

 

“Shouldn't skip so many days.”

 

“Ain't going to let you go through the withdrawals on my behalf.”

 

T-Dog took a minute to watch him. Rick tried to not let it show how it bothered him to be stared at and it took a lot of self-convincing that this wasn't a call of dominance. The skin on the back of his neck prickled, nose flaring, eyes raising to meet those soft browns. This was simply one man concerned for another. It suddenly felt too long since he's been in the presence of another wolf.

 

–

The small camp at the quarry was a flurry of activity by the time the sun hung high in the sky of midday. The people had come into a routine that worked, landing the women to do a lot of the 'house' hold chores while the men went out and checked the perimeters, snares, and for any food they could possibly gather for the night. Rick hadn't been given a job just yet, made to hang back with Shane and flag him as he trudged about. They talked together like time hadn't even passed, Shane laughing and joking about his conquests and how much he missed that, how he could have been a better man, but hell, did he have fun.

 

It made Rick laugh, made him throw a few jabs Shane's direction in jest, and Shane took it all in good humor, throwing a few back of his own. Their conversation soon moved to Carl and how the boy was doing. It made Rick smile that Carl was able to befriend the shy little girl and bring her out of her shell, seeing a lot of his mother in him with how he so easily distracted her from her terrors. After Rick and Shane took Carl out to the quarry to try and catch some frogs, an expedition that got all three of them soaked to the bone, Carl had been dropped off to get dry under the sun as he chatted with Sophia.

 

That was hours ago and both Rick and Shane found themselves strolling back from the river when the children they thought they left secure in the camp came running out of the woods, screaming for help. At the sound of Carl's voice, Rick was running and scooping the boy into his arms, immediately checking for injury and breathing in for the scent of blood. His skin had grown cold at his boy's panic. He couldn't hear much other than Carl's and Sophia's whimpering.

 

“Come on, man.” Shane said, patting his shoulder casually. Carl was passed over to Carol who opened her arm and let his son relax in her comfort so he could follow after the other man, and he turned away so they wouldn't have to see the primal sternness in his face as he marched behind Shane.

 

“What is it?” Rick pushed himself to the front, seeing that already Dale and Morales stood watch over the snarling, feasting carcass of a dead man over its prey. Rick's face pulled into a sick scowl at the thing and he took the offered shovel before stepping around it and dealing the first strike. The decaying face twisted away, a crack of teeth and bone making Rick flinch. Shane joined in, and then the rest, making sure the walker didn't get up again. The ground underneath them became dark and sticky with walker blood, the stench of it making them all grimace and make noises of disgust.

 

“That's the first one we've seen that's come this close to the camp.” Dale said, still out of breath. “Maybe we should move.”

 

Shane shook his head, “No, we shouldn't. It took us _weeks_ to get us to feel this safe and set our borders.”

 

“It doesn't look like we're very much safe here now, does it?” Dale pressed. “More can be headed this way.”

 

Shane looked at Rick, lips pressed in a tight line as he searched him silently for his opinion. If he looked at what they had now, Rick could easily admit that their camp was good for what's been happening so far. Miles away from the city, and from what Rick understood, hadn't been bothered the couple of months they've all sought refuge here, with water that can easily be boiled down into something drinkable and a route to and from Atlanta so they could get food, he could understand why Shane didn't want to leave. The area had been secured, and for the most part, hadn't had a walker come past the lines of strung up cans that alerted them if there was a breach. Maybe this lone walker was the only one for miles. Maybe they were safe all along.

 

Maybe there were more coming their way.

 

“Well...” Rick looked at the creature at his feet, still hissing, still very much alive in its own sense. It didn't have the strength to pick itself back up and simply clacked its teeth at them, arms reaching out uselessly. Rick shook his head and looked between them both, “I think we should bring this information back to camp.”

 

“We're safe here, Rick-”

 

“Didn't say we aren't. But Dale is right to worry, and the others should know.” He set his foot down on the dry chest of the walker, hearing bones crunch easily, not minding the way it grasped tightly to his leg and writhed on his back, trying to find a piece of him to chew into. Rick ignored the grunt of disgust coming from Shane's direction, just catching the way the other man turned away and rub his hands through his dark hair. Ignoring the disapproval, Rick raised his ax high before letting it fall over it's cranium, ending its life swiftly.

 

 

-

 

There was an explosion of voices and opinions the moment Rick opened up to the group and told them of what they found. They were all already shaken up from the possible threat, that something could be so close to their borders and they all hadn't even known. Though they were protecting themselves by setting up cans for an early warning, it all became very real how little that could protect them all, that they could all remain completely unaware.

 

Amy was the first to raise her voice to Rick, her eyes showing true fear under her furrowed brows. She stuttered as she said, “What if- what if they surround us? Just... just a crowd of them, just on our borders, building up until we can't handle them anymore?”

 

Rick shifted his stance, hands on his hips as he sighed. His head felt dull and full with the barrage of noises and emotion going on around him, but he still managed to find his sense of self in it all. His thoughts were harder to pull together, but he managed, “I can't promise nothin' that won't happen, but we can prevent it as much as we can.”

 

“Now, calm down, Amy, it won't come to that- that is just a scenario if we don't keep our guard up, if we get too comfortable.” Shane butted in. And they have been. Living in their secluded camp, its almost like they've forgotten that there was that threat hanging over their heads. Andrea came around, wrapping her arms around her sister comfortingly. Shane did his best with words, “We'll tighten our rounds and no one goes off alone now.”

 

“And how long will we live like that?” Dale pushed his own opinion on the matter forward, standing into the circle the officers were standing in. He played the devil's advocate, saying things no one wanted to hear and wanted to bring up. Rick could respect him for that, unlike Shane he seemed to bristle at the other, like he was angry that the man was scaring them all. “We can't keep that up forever, we'll burn ourselves out.”

 

Another wave of noise, a burst of anger and fear that made Rick have to shut his eyes and attempt to block it all out. Rick turned around and pressed the heels of his palms over his eyes, victim to this sharp twist of impatience at the discord. It only seemed to be getting louder, more distracting, the longer he allowed this to happen. “Quiet!” He barked and rounded his sharp eyes over the group. “Calm down for just a few minutes. One. There was _one._ Not five. Not twenty.”

 

The silence was a reprieve. Rick rubbed a hand over his stubble and then walked off to find a place to sit. He could almost hear the few afraid of him murmur between each other, bringing up this fabled lack of control simply because something else ran through his veins that didn't make him like them. He didn't know what they wanted, and hell, he didn't think _they_ even know what they wanted, and it simply started to look like a hound chasing his tail at this point.

 

“I'm not sayin' one way or the other, but it looks like we got enough time that we don't need to be makin' any rash decisions.”

 

“We understand, Rick. Here, why don't you just... cool off. Have some water.” Jacqui stepped forward in an act of bravery the Lycan nearly snorted at, holding out the bottle in a steady hand. She tilted her head down and her dark gaze was unwavering, like this was some sort of peace offering. Rick grabbed it before they all get the wrong idea and think he refused to back down. Shane took advantage of everyone united attention, and followed Rick's lead, prompting that they should take the night. T-Dog met his eyes right behind, and he noticed the shake of his head. Rick resisted the urge to sigh.

 

–

 

Carol took it upon herself to teach Carl in Lori's stead. Rick sat on an empty cooler next to the older woman, listening in as she instructed basic algebra to the children. The little brown head of his son was bent over a book next to this wavy blonde, both with faces of concentration. It was one of the only bits and pieces of normalcy they all held onto, that despite them all picking up and leaving their homes and jobs and responsibilities, there was still this dedication to make sure the kids got some form of education. Maybe it was from holding on to the silly hope that things will get better again, but for now, it was a great distraction.

 

Rick had actually gotten down at one point, pencil in hand and eraser tip down, pointing to Sophia a trick that hadn't worked for Carl while learning division that she took up like second nature, grinning goofily as she got the right answer each time while Carl pouted and continued on with the long way, having given up on that long ago. He reached over and scratched the dark head, getting those straight locks to tangle and mess while the boy laughed and kicked out, screaming at his dad to leave them alone.

 

Then someone new turned up to the camp. Shane's voice was loud and recognizable, following the fast shuffle of the other man's feet as he came to the center of the camp. He heard the stranger call out for Merle, his narrow eyes darting over to a single tent that had been unoccupied since the night before, and then to turn around and glare at Shane with his ever present scowl.

 

“Where the hell is he? Huh?” Daryl asked defensively while the line of squirrels swung behind him. Rick approached them at a safe distance, hand on the gun at his hip. “You said you had somethin' to tell me? What's so damn important?”

 

“No, let me.” Rick said before Shane could say anything and soon he was under the icy stare of the other man. Rick gave him a once over, took in the dirty clothes and smudged face, the blond hair cut close to keep it out of his eyes. He said to Shane, “You weren't there. It was my fault.”

 

The blond scoffed, Daryl, Rick remembered. “Your fault? And who are you?”

 

“Rick Grimes.”

 

“Rick Grimes...” The man repeated and stepped up in his space. “I know you. Literal wolf in sheep's clothing.” He was practically thrumming for a fight. “You got something you'd like to say to me?”

 

Rick held his hand out towards Shane to keep him back, but the other hovered just in case. Rick let go his loose hold on his gun, hoping to go for non-threatening. The redneck looked like he had a trigger-finger on his temper, and at this moment he just wanted to do as much as he could to make sure he never pulled. “You're brother, Merle? We had a few complications with him and he's still back there in Atlanta.”

 

Something visibly cracked in Daryl's harsh demeanor, the furrow of his brow tensing in a different fashion and blinking back disbelief. He rounded lost eyes at the crowd, noticed how they all came around them and being put under the spotlight had him curling in towards himself. Different, but he still looked like an animal ready to bite. “He dead?” He asked, and his voice came out gruff and quiet. He even backed off a few steps and the hold he had on the line of squirrels tightened. Rick was suddenly reminded of young children lost or abandoned in a park, or of a puppy that's been kicked one too many times.

 

“When we left him? No.”

 

Those sharp blues darted back towards him and the anger flooded back into Daryl's face. “You just _left_ him?” He roared and the next thing Rick knew, the man was throwing his catch at him. He managed to duck it in time, but not fast enough to see the underlying intent, catching the shorter man with a grunt as he crashed into his stomach. His shoulder knocked into his chest painfully and he was shoved back with his weight.

 

Shane grabbed Daryl by the arm and managed to throw him to the ground. As Rick shook the world back into place, he saw the hunter pull out his knife. “Shane!” Rick called and the other was fast to grab the man crouched on the ground, twisting his arm back in an awkward position until he dropped his weapon. A thick arm went around his neck and the man was taken to his knees.

 

“Shh, calm down, man.” Shane murmured to him like he was calming a beast.

 

“Chokehold's illegal- Get the fuck off me!”

 

“You can file a complaint,” Shane wisecracked.

 

“Fuck you.” Daryl hissed and stared up at Rick under his brows. “Should of _known_ somethin' was up. Smelled wet dog a mile away! You're all- you're all the same! Merle- “ – a sob, “You- you cuff him, or somethin'? Trapped him?” His breath came out in heavy sobs, teeth gritted as he worked himself up. Rick could only give him a curt nod and watched the pieces snap into place. Daryl struggled even more, “You asshole! You left him there to die!” He dug his elbow into Shane's stomach with a growl, “Let _go_ of me!” He audibly choked as Shane tightened his grip against his neck, and both of Daryl's dirty hands held on tight to the forearm cutting out his air supply.

 

“Let him go.” Rick demanded and met Shane's eyes over the redneck, giving him a nod to let him know things are in control again. Daryl still had this look of distress to him, whimpers pushing through his thin lips with ever gulp of air he took in and released once Shane let him out of his hold. He kept himself close to the ground, glaring up at Rick as Shane backed away and came to his side.

 

Shane murmured to him, “He was going to kill you.”

 

“If I didn't have a son to take care of, I might of let him.” Rick got down on Daryl's level, peering at the hunter and meeting him right in the middle. “Morales left him unconscious on a roof with the door padlocked shut. For all we know he might not be alive, but I'm saying there's a chance.”

 

“A chance?” Daryl rasped and spat at the space between them. “Then I'll take it. I'm gonna get my brother. The hell is he?”

 

“You won't do it alone.” Rick said and stood up to his full height. He watched as Daryl struggled to his feet and noticed the easy way he squared his shoulders and squinted his eyes at him him in challenge. “It was my fault. I'll go with you.”

 

Daryl huffed and a grimace took to his features. “I don't need no backwards hound to find my damn brother!”

 

“Well, I don't care if you need me, or not. You're not going back to the city alone.”

 

“I'll take the fuckin' China kid with me, then!” Daryl growled. “ _You're_ not coming with me.” With that, Daryl was turning around and heading back to his tent, his movement tight with anger.

 

Rick sighed heavily while Shane hung over his shoulder. “You _are_ going. Aren't you?”

 

Rick took a second to think about it, then nodded. “I owe it to him.”

 

Shane whistled with a shake of his head.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've ultimately decided that as a chapter, this is good enough. I totally feel like I'm cheating you all by turning in only 11 pages instead of the usual 16 that I want to hit for every chapter, but I feel adding the rest will REALLY drag it on. The events that come after will probably feel a lot better lumped together instead of separated so right now I'm hoping I'm making the right decision. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed!


	4. Simple Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right off the bat, I want to apologize at how short this chapter is. I just don't have the time to actually write things for long periods at a time. Hopefully people will still be interested despite the shorter chapters. But there's the new installment! I might shorten chapters in general lol but at the same time, just gotta see where inspiration takes me. 
> 
> Comments are more than appreciated and I'll try to respond as quickly as I can!
> 
> Also anyone interested to let me bounce ideas off of them, I'm all ears lol

 

The next day found four men in the same van that hightailed it out of the center of Atlanta. The stretch of green land and endless road eventually gave way to the towering gray abandoned towers and Rick kept his eyes out the window to mindlessly watch the streaks of colors made by the stationary cars sitting on the other side of the highway heading out. For some reason they hadn't really processed the first time he rolled into the city, but now it just reminded him how absolutely hopeless the people were with what fate had thrown their way. Atlanta was now just a ghost of what she used to be and the few good memories of visiting the city made his chest feel heavy with nostalgia.

 

They had to park the car out of the city in order to not draw any attention to themselves and the rest of the trip was attempted on foot. The city was as silent as it was the day before, the crowd of walkers having dispersed once the activity at the department store had stopped. They moved quickly, a straight line that weaved between buildings with Glenn taking up the front and Daryl at the back. Rick could almost forget that the man was even there. He'd been surprisingly quiet the whole trip, becoming a man of few words. Still. He couldn't help but feel that the man was blaming him for his brother being lost in the city.

 

“He was high, you know?” Rick muttered over his shoulder. Like it would help things. He didn't know what he had to prove, why he needed the younger Dixon to understand the reasons he decided to handcuff his last living kin on the roof without food and water. If things had been different, the choices he'd made would not have changed. Merle was a disaster waiting to happen the way he was. Daryl didn't say anything, but he might as well shouted that Rick had killed a man in cold blood. “Merle was waving his gun at innocent people's faces. He would have shot one of us if we got him angry enough.”

 

No words came out of Dixon, but a heavy huff made Rick look behind himself with one eye. He saw Daryl duck his head, the way his hands tensed around his bow. He bit hard on his lip, a face so resolute like he knew. Rick had no illusions that Daryl knew just what kind of man Merle could be. It didn't help the guilt eating away at his guts. 

 

They stopped under the shade of two buildings and empty streets from both directions. Rick motioned them close, heads bent together to keep their voices from bouncing off the walls in the silent city. “Where’s the bags from here?”

 

“What about that damn bag? We’re gettin’ my brother first.” Daryl butted in, and the sound of his voice surprised them all. He didn’t back down as he stepped up in Rick’s space, “Ya left him there, ya go get him.”

 

Rick shook his head, claiming his space by putting a hand out in front of him, keeping Daryl a arm’s length away, “We will, but I need those bags-“

 

“Man, fuck your bags!” Daryl roared.

 

Rick grabbed Daryl by his arm when he got near, the other hand to try and cover his mouth. “Daryl-!”

 

Glenn shushed them both, pushing them apart as Rick reacted to Daryl’s disregard for his need for space. Glenn’s panicked gaze looked down both ends of the road, nerves making him grimace as he looked up into both angry faces. “We have to be quiet!” he hissed, “Your voices are echoing! Do you want them to find us?” At the both of them keeping their mouths firmly shut, other than the glare they shot each other, they had stood down. Glenn sighed in relief, “Your bags aren’t that far, but Merle’s along the way. It’ll be easier swinging by to get him then continue on for the bags.” 

 

“Plus. Another set of eyes sound real good, if ya ask me. Even if it is attached to some trailer hick trash.” T-Dog added and easily ignored the way Daryl had bristled at the tone of words. 

 

“Alright,” Rick said, “But we do this carefully, do you hear me Daryl? No runnin’ off because you think it’s safe.”  

 

The redneck huffed at being singled out, but gave the officer a single nod. 

 

They found the building they had left in a hurry, relieved that it seemed even empty of any walkers. They kept their steps quick and silent, not stopping for anything as they rushed up the building. Rick was at the front and Daryl trailed close behind, his presence as oppressive and silent as ever. 

 

It was just them two who made it to the top. T-Dog ended up having to take a breather between flights and Glenn waited behind in case the other Lycan needed back up. Daryl at first barreled into the door, forgetting for a moment that Morales had chained it shut in order to keep the older Dixon safe. The bolt cutters were practically swung at the door in his haste to get it off, and he hadn’t even waited for the chain to fall heavily to the floor before he was charging in and calling for Merle.

 

Rick kept an open watch. Daryl had made a lot of noise, but he didn’t know how to respond at seeing the other man’s desperation. They were finally there, Merle was supposed to be fine, but at the lack of response even Rick was afraid that the roughed up older man had succumbed to hunger and dehydration. What he saw in front of him was a rooftop with no Merle and a distraught Daryl breaking down in front of him.

 

“Merle? Merle!” Daryl screamed, his voice cracking as he called out pitifully for his brother. There were tears in his eyes that he hastily wiped away, turning his back on Rick to do so.  Rick only had to listen to those stilted and quick breaths to know the other man was working himself up. 

 

“Daryl.” Rick reached for him, trying to calm him, “I’m sorry-“

 

“This is _your_ fault!” The Dixon rounded on him, hands out to throttle. He got a hold of Rick by his shirt and Rick let him shake him against his body, let him hiss in his face, “I shoul’ kill you!”

 

“Hey! Put him down!” 

 

T-Dog and Glenn came rushing through the door once they saw what was playing out on the roof. A strong arm wound around Daryl’s torso and the touch alone had Daryl tensing and whipping around, his hold on Rick gone. Before anyone could even blink, Dixon was swinging his crossbow over his head and aiming directly at T-Dog, “Get away from me!” He snarled, eyes wild. He twitched, even as T-Dog took a step back, but what really got Daryl to tighten his hands around his weapon and cower away was the gun Rick held to the side of his head. 

 

“Relax. Drop your weapon,” Rick barked and his stance unwound when Daryl dropped his head and his aim. “He’s not here and it’s my fault. I get that.  But there’s a chance that he survived. He can’t be far.” 

 

There was blood splattered on the floor, but it was minimal. A few drops and a small puddle. It reminded him of years ago when Shane received his first broken nose with his blood on the white sidewalk. The dark stain wasn’t unnoticed by Daryl, who stepped around it and huffed in each breath, lips pressed tight together as he reigned in every volatile emotion. Rick watched him carefully.

 

Daryl pointed, throwing his finger out to the side as he spat, “He’s out there. An’ I better find ‘im, ya hear me?” 

 

Rick nodded and he relaxed his grip on the butt of his gun. He didn’t want to bring up any possibilities, that his brother may not have survived an escape. He watched as Daryl’s hunting skills came into play and how his swaying strut led him towards the edge of the roof and taking a look down. 

 

They were all starting to get impatient. And as much as Rick would like to help dedicate their time to search for Merle, they had to make it back to camp by nightfall. They couldn’t be stuck here and leave the camp with half their defenses, but leaving Daryl wasn’t an option. He already done it once to his brother, as much of an ass as he was, but doing it twice wasn’t going to sit well with him. It was his hide, it was T-Dog’s, it was the other Lycans who took refuge in that camp, and one selfish act of leaving the Dixons behind could mean the hunters hunting them down just because they felt like it. _If_ they managed to survive this on their own. Rick wouldn’t bet against it.

 

While Daryl continued judging his surroundings, T-Dog approached him from behind and took a peak over the side, his nostrils flaring as he took a whiff. Rick did too, but all he could process was the sour metallic scent of blood. 

 

T-Dog grunted “Nothin’.”

 

“Didn’t fuckin’ ask you.” Daryl replied and turned around, then looked at Rick. “He climbed down. Ain’t no other way. Can see curtain’s flappin’ in an’ out of a window a couple  a’ floors below.” He hardened and gave T-Dog a once over, “Ain’t need no special sense t’ know that.”

 

T-Dog’s lip twitched, but he didn’t say anything back at the obvious insult. There was a thickness that followed Daryl as he lead the party downstairs, something muted about him though he’s as loud as ever. It didn’t take long to find the room Merle had entered, recognizing the same earthy scent that surrounded him as they entered the room. He wondered how Daryl could tell and how his skills in hunting were cultivated. It wasn’t like anything he’s seen with the usual hunters that came in and out the station, except for, of course, his brother. The Dixons were something else.

 

They sat, though they weren’t sure what they were waiting for. Rick followed Daryl with his eyes and how he paced the room, touching things here and there. It reminded him of those mystery TV shows his wife fleetingly obsessed over. Whatever Daryl was looking for, it didn’t seem to satisfy him. He scowled as he looked at Rick and then was quickly distracted as he  noticed his bandaged arm. His expression changed, one of confusion and then of suspicion, and then the thought of his brother flew out the open window momentarily.

 

“Where the hell did’ja get that!” Daryl barked and grabbed Rick’s injured arm, holding it up to be seen. Rick had forgotten all about it and would of snatched his arm away if only Glenn hadn’t sat up with a stricken look and T-Dog looking unsure of how to react. With everyone’s eyes on it he didn’t see the point and let Daryl hold on, despite how tightly he pressed the blunt tips of his fingers into the muscle of his upper arm. “You were bit and we were housin’ yer ass?” 

 

“Yeah, but there is nothin’ wrong with me.”

 

“Not _yet._ And you…” Daryl rounded on Glenn and T-Dog, “ya couldn’t tell!?” 

 

“S’not like that… we all smell a bit like geeks and old blood.” T-Dog explained. 

 

Glenn shook his head quickly, his eyes glued to the bandage. “It’s not… infected, is it?” 

 

“Everyone gets infected, genius. A bite or a scratch from one a’ them is all ya need.” Daryl threw Rick’s arm angrily and shoved him aside, “You turn, you’re dead, but right now we’re lookin’ for my brother.” 

 

Rick grunted in dissent. He walked right in front of Daryl, stopping him before he could head out the door. “No. We have not one clue where he could be and don’t tell me you do. There is evidence that he is alive, but any tracks you _think_ you found? They’re cold. I know it and you know it. Now we can get that bag and its filled with guns. We can arm ourselves up to the teeth. If ya want any chance of finding your brother and making it out alive, we will get that bag first.” 

 

Daryl looked about ready to further this confrontation, but a quick assessment of their party and he knew he’d lose this battle. He backed down, his head dropping as he shouldered Rick out of the way. “You’re one selfish sonovabitch, you know that?”

 

“Hey… I’m not sayin’ if we find him along the way, we won’t stop.” 

 

“Whatever.”

 

Rick sighed, letting Daryl have the last say. T-Dog rolled his eyes and followed right after Dixon, catching up to him before he got too far ahead. Glenn stayed back with Rick, concerned for his well being. Rick nodded him forward, but they walked side by side. 

 

“So, uh, how long that’s been there?” 

 

“A couple days. It’s about healed, I just forgot about it.” He unwrapped it slowly to make sure the bandage hadn’t stuck to his skin somehow. The skin revealed underneath was newly scarred. He felt he didn’t need the cover anymore and let it fall to the ground.

 

Something like a relieved laugh popped out of Glenn. “So you were bit? Maybe… maybe its not as infectious as we think?” 

 

Rick passed over a wry grin, flexing his wrist. He could easily see the outline of his tendon moving.  “I wouldn’t test that theory.” 

 

-

 

They spend the next half hour making detours around the streets. There had been a few places swarming with the geeks, having heard their groans and sloth-like footsteps long before they made the corner. Though Glenn lead them closer and closer towards the bags, he constantly looked over his shoulder at either Rick and T-Dog to make sure it was safe. 

 

Rick would of gladly turned if he didn’t get a vicious glare from Daryl at laying down the option. It could of been faster on his own part, his senses would of been even stronger, and as a wolf his chances of protecting the group were higher. Daryl didn’t trust him one stitch and with his trigger finger on the crossbow release, Rick had retracted the offer. 

 

They eventually had no choice but to walk into the stumbling creatures domain. They’ve scouted around the area once, but besides the one opening down Baker St., the rest was crowded in. Making a run for it towards the guns would only alert the walkers of their presence, and once they were known they knew they’d be boxed in.

 

Apparently, as a pizza boy, finding his way in and out of tight spaces had become a profession. The kid had to of played a shit ton of strategic video games to have gotten this good, but being able to see what and where as Glenn drew in the dust helped made the desired outcome seem all the more probable. Daryl was to wait in the shadow and watch their backs while T-Dog waited on the other far side in his other form. Daryl only gave him the okay when he made it clear that he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot him if he comes at him turned.

 

Glenn would run in with Rick, and although Rick had refused to put the kid into the fray, Glenn wouldn’t budge. They could see the carry from there and how the satchel was thick and heavy with weaponry. The bag next to it was smaller. That was the one Glenn was going to snatch up and Rick had made sure the kid knew it was important that he didn’t drop anything inside.

 

They watched T-Dog leave and disappear down the road to meet them on the other side. Daryl carefully pushed open the fence, his eyes on the nearest walkers in case they were noticed. When they continued to be ignored, He pointed his two fingers in a chopping motion. It was a little awkward coming from Daryl, but he had to of learn it from someone. Rick thought of Merle and remembered faintly that man had trained in the army.

 

Before he left, Rick and Daryl met each other’s stare. They were trusting each other on this and somehow they understood each other, if just for this mission. Rick caught up to Glenn, who started off skirting the edges of the four way intersection. The Asian was brave even though he liked to act like he wasn’t. 

 

Glenn was breathless when they found a small place to stop. Rick wasn’t as affected, but he let him catch his breath as he looked around the corner for another opening. The undead walked without pattern which made it difficult to time anything correctly. He heard more than saw Glenn reach down and grab a broken piece of brick, the younger man swallowing thickly before he could speak. “Daryl did this last time we were in a pinch.” He explained and threw the brick the opposite direction, making a loud bang. Like clockwork, the walkers paused and then headed their way towards the noise. “Okay!”

 

It was a sprint from there. Rick only had enough time to swing the heavy bag over his head and then push Glenn along. Looking back, he could see that their movement had somehow triggered their attention. The walkers turned with groans, slowly gaining momentum until they were running on they feet.

 

Rick could see T-Dog at the mouth of the alley. His forearms were covered in blood, his face thankfully clean. Around him laid the broken bodies of five rotting corpses and he greeted them both with a wild grin, his meaty paw patting them both on the back for coming out unharmed. “Good thinkin’ with the rock, man. Really made my job easier.” 

 

Glenn laughed and Rick huffed quietly with a shake of his head. The joy was cut short when they heard a loud yell cut through the quiet. Rick whipped his head around and the first thing he noticed was that the crowd of walkers had taken notice of the conflict a block away. The next thing that processed was that that was Daryl’s voice and that he was in trouble.

 

“Shit!” Rick cursed and he quickly dropped the bag so that reaching inside was easier. He placed one rifle in T-Dog’s arms, hoping he knew how to use it because there was no time to teach him. “Glenn, you could stay here-“

 

“No, I- I could do this!” Glenn said and reached in, pulling out a pair of pistols. One he shoved into the back of his pants, the other he shakily undid the safety. 

 

Whoever it was on the other side, they were already shooting of their firearms to keep the walkers at bay. They came in from behind, taking out the unaware walking corpses one by one. As they got closer, Rick could see Daryl fighting off two dark-skinned men. His blood was pumping and he saw red when a sack was put over Dixon’s head. “Daryl!” Rick roared and shot down another walker in front of him in a spray of blood and brains. 

 

A new body was within his sight, fighting off these unknown men with ferocity, but he was out numbered. He recognized the graying head of hair. Merle was spitting out threats, wild as he witnessed his brother being mauled between two men. Daryl was shoved into the back of a van and overcome with anger, he grabbed the skinniest of the gang and thrashed him against the brick wall, effectively dazing him.

 

They were gone.

 

Rick marched towards the stranger, pushing aside Merle, and hauled him up by his neck. “Where are they taking him!?”

 

He let up just a little, the younger man, shouldn’t be too far out of his teens, coughing air back into his lungs. He shook his head and Rick didn’t know if it meant he didn’t know or he wouldn’t tell him.

 

Merle took the matter into his own hands and snatched the kid away with the front of his shirt. He put the boy onto his knees and balled his fist, slamming his knuckles into his cheek. “Where! … Is he!” He snarled. His fist met the kid’s face twice more, earning him terrified whimpers and cries, though from the looks of it Merle was holding back. He put his hands up in surrender. 

 

“I don’t know, I don’t know!’

 

“What do you mean ‘you don’t know’?” Rick growled and narrowed his eyes at the young man, “I can smell your pack on you. Where are they?”

 

The kid’s face lit up, licking over his lips nervously before words started to spill, “You’re Were too? Man, brother-“ A warning growl from Rick made him swallow his tongue and start differently, “I can’t tell you-“

 

“Oh you will.” Merle grinned crazily and hauled the kid up with him. “That’s a Dixon ya have there, _my_ lil’ brother. You have any little brothers, kid?” He laughed as the boy stuttered, practically dragged behind him like a sack of meat. “Yeah, yeah. Didn’t think so. Yer in for a world of hurt.”

 

—

 

Rick wouldn’t of done it this way, but there was no stopping Merle once he’s steam rolling through. He stood with his arms crossed to keep from pacing the room, feet planted to the ground while he watched emotionlessly as Merle continued to assault the kid for information. The smell of blood is sharp and new and left a sour taste in his mouth. Rick’s upper lip curled when more blood was splattered against the wall from Merle ripping up the young man’s lip with his fist.

 

“I swear I don’t know!” The kid, Miguel, cried and flinched as Merle grabbed him by his shirt to sit him properly yet again. Hands grasped for thick wrists, but they were no use in stopping the hunter who was out for information. 

 

“I know and _you_ know that’s a straight up lie.” Merle said as he tightened his grip. “I have no sympathy fer the likes a’ yer kin, man. None. Ya wanna tell me where the hell they holdin’ my brother if you want to keep yer head on yer shoulders!”

 

“Okay, okay, okay!” Miguel cried and Merle managed to just hold himself back, bringing his fist back behind him. “Just promise me you won’t hurt them.”

 

“Depends on the state Daryl is in-“

 

“We promise.” Rick cut in and really any small comfort was allowed if it meant they’ll get back their own. The boy wiped up his tears with his shoulder, getting tears, snot, and blood on his ratty wife beater. Rick reached into his pocket and found he didn’t have anything for him, but a quick look at Glenn and the Asian was bringing him a cloth for the the kid to wipe his face. Merle spat and sat on the corner of a table, arms crossed as he waited for the information to be handed to him. Rick waited for Miguel to ball up the cloth in his hands. “Where is your pack.”

 

“I’ll have to show you… I can’t just tell you.” Miguel said and cowered when Merle got up with an “oh, hell no,” not at all liking what he just heard. Rick kept him back  by getting in his route , stepping in front of their captive. “Ain’t ever been good with directions. I just know how to get there.” 

 

“Its a trap.” Glenn said and T-Dog shook his head.

 

“He won’t lie to us. His scent’s been stable.”

 

“That’s fear.” Rick said and leveled the other with a stare. “We’ll kill you if you’re lying to us.”

 

“I’ll do more than just kill you, boy.” Merle warned, his voice dangerously low. “The last wolf that pissed me off, I took his teeth. I’l start with the feet this time. Work my way up.”

“I’m not going to lie to you. I wouldn’t lie to another lycan. O-or you. Please. I just want to go home. I-I— I-I-I —”

 

The kid was well and truly broken for now, scared out of his wits and with good reason. Rick doesn’t think he could recall Dixon going back on a promise, and if the man had any honor left in him, he was going to do his best for his blood. Rick knew that he wouldn’t be able to stop him if something were to happen to Daryl, but as long Daryl was safe, the young werewolf was going to survive this. 


End file.
